


An Apple A Day

by eiyria



Series: Keeping the Doctor Away [1]
Category: Dresden Files - All Media Types, Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, kink_meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-23
Updated: 2011-10-23
Packaged: 2017-10-24 21:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiyria/pseuds/eiyria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: AU in which Harry begins developing a pair of wings, and it makes his life so much more complicated.<br/>Written for TDFKM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Murphy patted me on the back. "Good job today Dresden. I don't know what it is, but lately you've been moving faster and reacting smarter."

"Really," I asked sarcastically, "Because it felt like every other ass-kicking you've ever given me."

She grunted and rolled her eyes, dismissing my less-than-polite comment. "Have you put in extra hours running? Maybe invested in a healthy dose of therapy? -Whatever it is, just keep it up."

"Murph, you know I couldn't afford one of those fancy shrinks on my salary."

She frowned. Recently money had become a touchy subject between us. The large majority of my income came from S.I., specifically Murphy who had written my checks. However, due to circumstances that were completely my fault, Murphy had been demoted; and my tap to a stable payday had been shut off. Any work I got from S.I. usually was the result of pulling together pennies to match my fee.

I decided to quickly change the subject. "It must be this new diet my apprentice has me on. She's taken my coffee and donuts in the name of nutrition. I haven't seen any benefits since, but maybe," I laid my hand dramatically over my chest and scrunched up my face in mock determination, " - just maybe, something is working."

I looked back at her, only to find one of her eyebrows raised, her face blank, and her mouth hanging ever so slightly open. "I don't think you even know how ridiculous you look right now."

I grinned goofily.

She shook her head and chuckled. "Go hit the showers, I'll meet you here in fifteen minutes, and we'll pick up some Chinese take out."

Chinese take out sounded good. I turned quickly in the direction of the locker rooms, already beginning to take off my sweaty shirt. Shower plus food equaled a happy Harry.

My dreams of Kung-Pao-Chicken were rudely interrupted by Murphy. She was calling after me and sounded scared. Instinctively I reached out for my magic. Even without my staff on me, I'd at least be able to do something to protect us.

I turned back, shield on the verge of solidifying in front of Murphy and I, only to do a double take when I didn't see any danger. I placed my hand on the locker room's door frame to ground out my power.

Murphy was muttering something to me, but I couldn't really make it out. A rush of adrenaline, I thought wouldn't have been possible after our training workout, hit me, and I didn't know what to do with it.

"Harry. Harry," eventually I managed enough focus to understand what she was saying. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Turn around."

Confused, I turned around, following her instructions. Of course my mouth spoke without consulting my brain. "Well, Murph, if you wanted to see me with my shirt off, all you had to do was ask. In fact, if you asked me to take off my pant- OWCH!"

I jumped back. "What did you do THAT for?"

"Harry, is there anything you might want to mention? Anything like a new case?" Her voice grew angry. "We've been over this before Harry. If there's something big going on in Chicago, something that can't be taken care of under the radar; what do we do?" It was more of a prompting than an actual question.

"We call Murphy."

"Damn right we call Murphy." She gave me an angry look. "So why didn't you? You're clearly in some sort of trouble."

I may have gotten a little edgy. I have a history of people falsely accusing me, that I've never really gotten over. Perhaps Murphy had a point about getting a therapist. "I don't know what you're talking about. Business has been slow at best."

"Then how do you explain the bruising on your back?" She pried. "You don't get two large bruises from sitting in the office all day."

"Bruises?"

She must have seen something in my face, because she immediately eased off. "Harry," she said concerned, and seemed to fumble with what to say next. "Maybe you should look in the mirror. I know you didn't get them from training today. I'd remember hitting you that hard -not that I would." She threw her hands in the air confused and at a loss.

"Okay." I walked slowly into the men's locker room and Murphy followed me in. Which was okay -I guess- because everyone knows Murphy has bigger balls than any other cop in S.I. It is part of the reason why she'd been around for so long.

I stood in front of one of the long mirrors and looked over my shoulder.

Murphy stood behind me. "I touched one a second ago in the doorway and you flinched. You're pretty sensitive, I'm surprised you didn't notice it while training."

I just looked in the mirror speechless.

"Could this be something from your side of the fence?" She continued softly, trying to ease me out of my shock, "Something magical. Maybe a curse?"

My mouth did the goldfish thing and globbed open and closed a few times before I spoke. "Maybe."

The bruising was contained and oddly symmetric. It was mainly restricted to my upper back, specifically radiating from my shoulder blades and extending left and right only to stop abruptly when it met my ribcage hidden underneath my inner arms. The dark marks crawled around the base of my neck and between it and my shoulder socket. The area following my spine was pretty normal though.

I reached awkwardly over my shoulder to touch one of the bruising masses, and was surprised when the mechanics of my body did not scream out in pain. Odd. Usually when you stretch like that, the pull of muscles would hurt a little, especially if the bruising was as sensitive as Murphy said or how it looked.

When in reachable distance, I touched the darkish-purple colored skin on my back, softly at first, and then a little harder. It hurt. I pulled back.

"Owch." I looked through the mirror at Murphy's face, she looked worried.

"I don't know Harry. I think maybe you should see a doctor, or at least the magical equivalent of one. This looks serious."

"I'm a wizard Murph, if this is some sort of curse, the best one to handle it is someone who knows a little about magic." I hooked both thumbs at my chest. "And I know a lot more than a little about magic."

She sighed, and her whole body seemed to loose energy and sag a little. "Alright. If you're sure. But this isn't going to be one of those things you ignore until it is too late. Come to my office in one week, and I'll see for myself if you need help." She looked at my face. "And don't even think of making excuses. I'll find you."

I gulped. "Okay," I muttered, "One week, I got it."

She nodded a little and turned to leave the Men's Locker Room. "Hurry up and shower," she told me, "I'll call the Chinese place and order ahead." And then she was gone, leaving me to my thoughts.

I hadn't been in any fights recently, in fact, I'd had the slowest month in a while. So much so, that I'd stooped to making a love potion for a very wealthy customer. Mainly because I doubted any decent parent would not let someone who looked like me anywhere near their kid's birthday party.

I hopped in the shower, unable to find any cause for the extensive bruising on my back. The water pressure was soft enough that I only felt slight tingles on my upper back, where the bruising was. The color looked like I'd felt after being pushed around by those crazy lycanthropes at Full Moon Garage. When I couldn't find an answer, I sighed exasperated and focused on rinsing out my hair and feeling the semi-warm water sooth my back in a tingling sort of way. What the hell, I'd have to ask Bob about this. Well, at least after he got back from the job I'd sent him on.

When the shower water started to get cool, I turned the tap off and reached for my towel. I dried off and threw on some old cloths. I had an old worn pair of pants and a loose old shirt that said: 'This Shirt is in Spanish when you're not Looking'. I gave my hair one last scrub with the towel, then clumsily brushed it back with my fingers, and walked out of the Locker room to meet Murphy.

She was waiting by the exit, her mouth set in a grim little line.

"Chinese sounds great," I announced, breaking the tension.

"Yeah," she said, "I already ordered the beef thing you like."

"Mmmmm. Marry me. You're amazing Murph."

She smiled genuinely and pushed open the door leading out to the tiny parking lot. "Let's get going. Don't want the food to get cold when we're lollygagging around here."

We piled in Murphy's little car, and I tried to not let the dull throb I felt show when I leaned back against the seat. It receded after a second or two, and before I knew it, we were pulling out of the tiny parking lot.

We didn't talk during the ride, and I tried to reign in my mojo to keep it from frying Murph's car. I didn't want it to break down on her one day because of prolonged exposure due to a certain magical consultant.

We pulled in the restaurant parking and Murphy dug a few bills out of the glove compartment. I scrunched my long legs in so that she had the room necessary to do it. She pulled in front of the restaurant, transferred the dollar bills to my hand, and motioned me out of the car with the hand not on the steering wheel.

I flicked the car lock and stepped out of the vehicle. When I turned to close it, I saw Murphy fishing for something else in the glove compartment, and pulling out a cell phone.

I mentally reminded myself to stay a little longer than was strictly necessary in the restaurant. If Murphy needed to use the phone, I decided to give her as much time as she needed.

I walked in and stumbled into the register line. A short Asian woman, shorter than Murphy, asked for my last name with a heavy accent, and started searching through the take out orders. I felt like a giant.

While the short lady was searching for my order, I tried to relax and look around. Relaxing didn't happen because something caught my attention.

In one of the circular booths at the far side of the restaurant, and old woman with straight grey hair and extremely long nails was staring at me. Being my height, I'm use to getting looks and stares, but this woman's gaze was extremely intense. It was almost as if she were looking through me, instead of at me. Regardless of whichever it was, it sent shivers down my spine, and I stepped a few feet back to avoid her glare through a tank of brightly colored fish.

Short-Stuff grabbed my attention before I could think too much about it. "Mr. Dresden!" she called anxiously. "Mr. Dresden!"

I scurried over to the counter where she stood. She read off my order and I nodded my head in confirmation.

"The beef plate is cooking," she said in a heavy accented voice, "It's new beef and better beef."

New and better beef. Oh joy.

"The pork plate is ready."

I grabbed the to-go wrapped Styrofoam tin containing Murphy's food and was about to step back into my hiding spot behind the fish tank, when I heard the door chime.

Murphy strode past me and glanced quickly at the meal in my hands. She gave me a quick irritated look and went up to the short Asian woman who'd been taking care of me and said something to her. Murphy turned back to me, "Dresden. You have to ask for sauce, they don't just hand it out."

"Oh," I replied wittily before stepping back behind the fish tank.

Murphy raised an eyebrow in response. "Are you hiding from someone?" She asked with jeer in her voice.

I pointed through the fish tank discreetly. "Older lady," I whispered, "Grey hair, evil fingernails, sort of looks like my Godmother in a few millenniums."

She looked over her shoulder, not bothering to hide it, and I cringed embarrassed. "The one with the stare of death?"

I looked up at her meekly, "Yeah," then after a second, "Is she STILL doing it?"

"Seems like."

I sighed. "Not creepy at all," my voice droned.

At that moment, the short lady's voice chimed, "Mr. Dresden! Mr. Dresden! Your beef."

I turned to Murphy, bouncing my eyebrows up and down. "My beef. She has my beef."

She rolled her eyes, "Grow up." She motioned for me to go ahead, and then added, "Don't forget to ask for sauce."

I went up to grab my takeout whilst keeping my sights on the scary woman in the corner. Her eyes followed me as I moved, and a shiver crawled up my spine. I quickly swung my eyes over to the short woman calling my name, thanked her, and handed her the combined total of Murphy and I's money.

I was about to turn away, when I remembered the sauce. I asked her for some and placed the itty-bitty circular container on the top of my take-out box.

I turned to rejoin Murphy and eat my dinner of champions. Or at least, that is what I tried to do. Instead I nearly tripped over myself in surprise and quite a bit of manly fear.

The creepy little Asian woman had reappeared in front of me. I almost didn't see her, being as tall as I am.

Before I could fall flat on my ass, her tiny bony hand shot out and grabbed my upper arm to steady me. A bit of her skin touched mine and I felt the tingle of a practitioner. She pulled me down to her level, and I was surprised my take-out didn't spill during the resulting balancing act. She was strong. I began to gather my will without even thinking about it.

Once I'd somewhat recovered my balance, she pulled me in even deeper, jutting her small mouth near my ear and enveloping me in an almost hug. It is hard to hug a person over twice your size who's carrying a box of Chinese food.

"Oh you poor thing. I'm so sorry."

Okay, not the reaction I was expecting.

"These next few weeks are going to be absolutely terrible for you. Really, my heart goes out to you."

"Ma'am," I tried to say, "I think you've got the wrong guy here."

She released me and patted me softly on the shoulder, the way these elderly grandma types tend to do. She looked up at me smiling. "But you're a good boy. A strong boy. I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Ma'am, I really think you've got the wrong- "

"And I'm never wrong about these things, never, not once in my 70 years."

Well fuck me. A practitioner who'd never been wrong. Maybe she was a precog of some sort. Either way, it wouldn't hurt to keep in contact with her. Perhaps I could hook her up with someone from the Paranet, if she wasn't already affiliated.

"Okay," I muttered awkwardly. "Um," I looked up at Murphy who was watching this exchange, hands firmly on her hips. I looked back down at the elderly woman. "Um Ma'am, I'm going to give you my card. If you ever need anything, feel free to call this number." I pulled out a plain white business card with my information on it. I folded it softly into her hand. "Okay?" I asked.

"Harry Dresden." She read the card out loud.

"Yup," I smiled, pulling up to my full height. "That's me. If you need any help Ma'am, just give me a call."

She smiled back, and gave my shoulder one last pat. "And such a sweet boy too."

She hobbled off, back to her table. I had no idea how she'd gotten behind me so fast, but decided to push the matter aside for now.

"Wow," Murphy mumbled, "What was that about?"

"Minor Practitioner," I replied, my eyes still tracking the hobbling old woman. "Probably a prescient, like Abby from the Ordo Lebes."

"The fortune teller type."

"Yeah."

"And she said these coming weeks were going to be hard on you."

"Yeah."

"Harry-" she turned to face me, her expression tense. She flickered through several facial expressions before settling on a calm one. "Just keep me in the loop, okay?"

"Yeah, no prob." I was a bit stunned from all of this. Prescient practitioners usually only saw possible futures, but this woman had mentioned her track record for being right. If that was truly the case it meant my life was about to take the fast lane into shitville. "Crap."

"Harry. I get that things are probably about to get really bad really fast, but at least you have some warning this time. Let's go back to your place, relax, eat the Chinese food, and get a good night's sleep. If bad things are going to happen, at least you'll be prepared and in top condition when the bad guys show up."

Murphy had a point. I took a deep breath and all my muscles seemed to relax again. Considering I'd just worked out hard with Murphy, the extra flood of endorphins felt amazing. I followed Murphy out to her car, and clambered in. I remember nodding off a little on the way home.


	2. Chapter 2

I'd been given a prophecy by a strange old woman with a great track record in predicting the future. So, when Monday morning rolled around and evil still did not rear its ugly head, it was only natural that I became a little restless. When Monday evening showed up, and still nothing happened, I began to grow a little bit concerned. And honestly, a bit disappointed.

After getting home and feeding the animals, I climbed down my basement ladder to visit my lab assistant Bob-the-skull, and hopefully get some answers. He'd returned from a job last night when I'd been turning in to bed.

"Bob!" I called.

"Wow boss," Bob called from the topmost shelf.

"What?"

"Your aura is way out of wack."

"Well, I did receive a prophecy that is late in the fulfillment phase. It does cause one to become a bit antsy."

Bob rolled his orange mote eyes. "No, not because of that Harry. Apprehension would manifest differently. But this. Wow. This is just -hey, you think maybe you could come a little closer and let me have a better look?"

Hell, if Bob was this willing to give answers without any sexual jibes, it meant shit was serious. His reaction alone sent a healthy dose of fear through me. Bob seemed to notice it.

"Stop it," he said. There's nothing to be afraid of, so calm down. All the fear is fogging up your aura, I can't get a clear read."

I grabbed the skull off the shelf and plopped down on the stool by my work bench.

"Hmmmm," Bob's voice rumbled like a purr. "Odd. Dark and bright at the same time. I haven't seen this outside of the far realms of the Nevernever."

I gulped and tried to think happy, calm, not-scary thoughts.

"Full and bloated. Radiating from your back." Then Bob turned his attention back to me. "Harry, be a dear and turn around for me."

My back. My back. My back was where the bruising Murphy saw was located.

"Harry," Bob snapped. "Get with the program, turn around."

I nodded, numb, and complied with his request.

"Yes, I see it. The dark threads of power originate from here. Your upper back looks pretty nasty. There are these little interwoven wormy things that one normally sees on changelings or scions during their time of choosing." The volume of his voice dropped and he continued to talk to himself. Then he addressed me, "Shirt off."

Normally, I would have bugged Bob about making a pervy comment, but in this case I just pulled my shirt off. I slung it across the floor in front of me.

"Okay boss, lean over and touch your toes." When I'd done this he continued, "Now cross your arms, like your angry." I did that too. "Okay then, all done."

I uncurled and looked at my Lab Assistant. "So. What's wrong?"

"I don't know."

"Bob, you just made me take off my shirt and do weird posses. Clearly you know something or you wouldn't have made me do it." Anger worked its way into my voice. I was kind of pissed. My upper back was where all the bruising was, and if Bob didn't start spitting up answers, I didn't know what would happen.

"Seriously boss," the skull said, "I don't know everything, I know it seems like I do, but even my expertise has limits. I haven't been free for centuries, things happen. While I know when magic changes and hold a lot of the old world knowledge, I'm at a loss."

I bit my lower lip and tried to control my voice. "Well, what can you tell me? Is it a curse?"

Bob snorted. Somehow. "No, no, I can definitely tell you it isn't a curse, a spell, or an illusion." He let that sink in before continuing. "It is -well- it appears to be a physical and magical change. I told you that I've seen this in changelings. When they choose which heritage to follow, Fae or Human, their body, mind, and magical ability undergoes changes."

"But I'm not a changeling. I'm an average joe human."

"Yes and no," Bob continued. "I can tell you for sure you are not Fae, at least, bearing that time-travel, ancient curses from a deity, or illusion from outside the range of understanding does not occur in your future."

"Uh."

"But you're also not an average joe human," Bob noted. "You are a mortal practitioner, and more than that, a wizard. Nothing about you is average-joe, except perhaps your food choices."

"Get to the point Bob," my voice didn't sound as strong as I wanted it to.

"More to the point, you are a wizard of a particularly strong bloodline, one associated with the workings of black magic. Perhaps this is a manifestation of something caused by your family's prolonged use of it. They do say black magic changes you, who knows, maybe they were warning of damage to more than just the soul." He considered it for a second, "Your grandfather is the Blackstaff, so he's used. Then your mother used, as is testament from everyone who ever met her. And finally you used when you burned Justin. It came pretty easily to you in my opinion, it wouldn't be to outrages to hypothesize that some physiological attribute gave you a predisposition towards black magic."

White hot fear spiraled through me. "Bob, even if that were true, why would it manifest now? Nothing has set it off. It doesn't make sense."

"Honestly Harry," the skull replied, "I've never seen anything like this before, I'm just throwing out suggestions. It may not even be your mother's lineage. Who knows, maybe daddy had a little bit of monster somewhere up his family tree. Justin always said Margaret was deathly attracted to danger. Maybe it is a result of that Outsider attack when you were 16. You've put yourself through so many trials, if this condition was acquired in one of your confrontations instead of inherited, I wouldn't know where to start looking."

We were both silent for a few minutes. Bob didn't pry. Thank god.

"Do you think someone on the Council would know what is going on? Maybe Listen to the Winds?" I asked softly.

"Possibly, but I wouldn't ask."

"Why not?"

"It is the White Council, Harry," Bob sighed. "You know better than I how they react to something that they merely suspect breaks their precious laws."

I gulped. "So you're suggesting I keep it a secret."

"Well, from the Council, duh. But I would suggest utilizing other venues for information."

"Okay. Okay." I nodded, taking it all in and mentally tallying the people I knew who where in the know. "Anything else you care to tell me Bob?"

"Yeah. But you're not going to like it. Look at it in the mirror. You said it was bruising? Well, it is a little bit more than that now. There is a sort of small soft patch against your shoulder blades. Also, your muscles in your back are moving the wrong way."

"What?" I nearly yelled. I reached a hand behind my back and touched where I knew my shoulder blades to be. I stiffened when I didn't feel smooth skin. I felt something indefinably soft and stringy in my hand. I rolled it over in my fingers and found it was attached to a hard ridge parallel to the sharp edge of my shoulder blade. The ridge felt tough and swollen, like the raw skin after bumping into something hard. Shit. Of all the times to need a mirror.

I looked at Bob. I didn't bother to hide my fear. "Bob, what the fuck is happening to me." Before he could answer, I had run up my sub-basement's stairs, barely managing to grab my staff and shirt as I ran out the door.

Whenever shit hits the proverbial fan, I always find myself taking one constant course of action. Some how, someway I end up in Murphy's office. I'd like to think she's trained me well.

So after storming out of my home like a maniac, I drove furiously to S.I. headquarters and probably broke a ton of traffic laws along the way. I flashed my badge to security, and brushed past them before they could stop me. They called after me, but with my long legs, I was already up the stairs. One security guard followed me up, and grabbed hold of me once I was a few feet from Murphy's cubical.

He cuffed me, and pushed into my back, specifically where the bruising had been. I yelped, a manly yelp of course, as I spiraled down on the floor. He fell with me, and his forearm and elbow dug into my upper back. I nearly white-ed out from pain. He was about to take me away, murmuring something about me 'being his buddy' and how he was 'going to throw my ass in jail'; when Murphy appeared, and she looked pissed.

There was a gathering crowd around her, but she didn't seem to care. She started growling words at the security guard and her lip curled to the point where her little pert nose scrunched up a little. The security guard stomped off and she waved the crowd of people away, telling them to 'mind their own business'.

I felt the weight lift off my back, only to be replaced with Murphy's warm hand. She helped me up slowly and led me over to her fun-sized cubicle. Her computer was already off, and she leaned me against a large stack of boxes that were under her plastic desk-counter. My back hurt. Owch.

She moved her chair out of my way and squatted down to my level. "Harry. I know you're not okay, so don't even think about lying to me." She spoke slowly and gently, as if she didn't really know if I was with her or not. "You looked like there was something you needed to tell me. I'm here. I'm listening. Tell me what happened."

My mouth flubbed and fiddled with the right words to say, but my mind was apparently not communicating with my mouth and it came out all muddled and indecipherable.

"Deep breaths," she repeated, "Harry, deep breaths. It is okay. Just take your time."

My vision got blurry, but I tried to focus on her. "Murph," I whined. "Murph, I don't know who else to turn to." I reached out numbly for her hand, and she grabbed it and clasped it tight. "Murph," I started to tell her again, "I think there's something wrong with me."

She hugged me gently, and pride be damned, I turned my head and rested it against the curve of her neck. Murphy smelled like Murphy, and she was warm, soft, and safe.

She rocked me back and forth for a few minutes, and I swear, I didn't spill a tear. Point-score for my dignity. I whispered the stuff Bob had told me into her ear, and she didn't pull away once.

Finally I let go of her, and she pulled me up to my feet.

"There is a bathroom back there with a long mirror, we can have a look, and then we'll figure out what to do." I nodded and followed in step behind her.

She led me to the woman's restroom and held the door open for me and nudged me in. "Don't worry," she told me, "There's only a two other females that work in this part of the building. We won't be bothering anyone."

In my wrecked haze I found myself not caring. There were more serious matters happening than someone seeing me in a woman's restroom. Normal-me would have made a fuss about it, but I was so bonked-out it didn't seem to matter. Before I could focus on the matter at hand, Murphy was already unbuttoning my shirt. She pulled it off my arms, and threw it over the door of one of the bathroom stalls.

Instead of letting me turn around to look in the mirror, she held me steady. "Let me see first. I don't want you freaking out, you clearly are already doing that." She held my arms firmly. "I'm going to touch it okay. Don't get scared. Okay."

I felt her tiny fingers stroke me softly, at least, I think it was me. It felt a little weird. I knew her hand was right on my back, but it felt like it was actually much further from me, a part of me that had never been touched before. And it felt warm, and after a few seconds, her touch made me feel tired and slow. I wanted nothing more than to take a nice long nap under soft sunlight. I blinked my eyes a few times trying to stay awake. She felt around my shoulder blades a little more, and then removed her hand.

I turned around to look at her. She was rubbing her fingers against each other, rolling a small piece of fluff between her thumb and pointer finger. Her face was unreadable. "Well," she said, "This is one hundred percent from your side of the fence." She looked up at me. It felt like bone and muscle between the shoulder blade and your spine, and it was coated by this fluffy stuff. It almost like bird down." She shook her head and smiled. "Harry, you're turning into a big giant chicken."

"Ha Ha. Very funny," I replied harsher than normal.

She held her hands up in pacifying surrender. "Sorry, sorry. Not the time for jokes. I was just trying to lighten the mood. You look like you need it."

I backed up closer to the mirror and looked over my shoulder. The bruising was still there, but the bruised area seemed to have raised the skin a little into one giant bump. The new ridge beside each of my shoulder blades, was a raw reddish color though, unlike the surrounding bruising. Along the ridges were tufts of grey fuzz with small trace amounts of black, the stuff in Murphy's fingers. It was a light grey that didn't draw too much attention from my skin tone.

I remembered something Bob had said about my muscles, and leaned over a bit and crossed my arms. The shoulder blades did what I imagined they were suppose to do, but everything around them did not. The skin seemed to tighten and pull almost backwards of the direction it should have. The raised bruised area swelled a little more, and I could see tension where there shouldn't be any.

Murphy noticed too. "Woah." I saw her in the mirror and she turned to get my shirt off of the door she'd hung it on. She had to jump a little to reach it. "Well, luckily I had a backup plan since our last get together."  
A heavy weight was lifted from my chest. One I hadn't known was there. "Backup plan?"

"Yeah," replied Murphy. "I may not have anticipated this, but I figured you'd need to be patched up somehow, especially after seeing your back last week." She took a few steps away from me and towards the bathroom window. She took out her phone, turned it on, and began dialing as she talked. "You know during the last Denarian fiasco with Marcone, Kincaid had to get patched up? Well it turns out Marcone had a supernatural doctor on his payroll, which was how Jared got treated so effectively." She waved her hand around. "And, knowing you, I managed to get his private number. I knew someday you'd run into something that you couldn't fix yourself."

Pride shot threw me. Murphy was ever so capable of kicking ass, even when there was no ass to kick. I found myself thankful of the insight and capability she possessed. I focused on Listening. It was a talent of sorts. I Listened mainly as a distraction to myself. The phone rang 3 times. Someone answered on the other line.

"Hello. This is Karrin Murphy, your employer gave me this number to call. I'd like to schedule an appointment today, is that alright?"

I heard shuffling of papers on the other end of the phone line, then they stopped. "I can fit you in seven to eight o'clock tonight."

"Alright. Thank you. The meeting address?"

"The same place you and the doctor first met will be fine." There was a pause. "Don't be late. And remember our standard fees. They are debatable upon arrival, but they never the less, must be paid in full."

"Thank you for all your help," Murphy added professionally. "Goodbye."

There was a click, and Murphy held a button to turn off her phone. I looked at her, and she seemed to brim with pride. Even if the doctor's information had been acquired from Marcone, someone she detested on principal, the fact that she had so clearly been able to help me when I could not help myself gave her a sense of pride. I thought about it, and it seemed to make sense. Murphy was thrown into a world of monsters where everything was stronger, faster, and more able than her despite her years of training. To be able to fight back and help someone -me- from that terrifying part of the world filled her with pride. And it filled me too. That was my Murphy, as Sanya had said, 'Tiny but Fierce'!

"What are you gawking at Dresden. Put your shirt on and lets get going."

I tugged my shirt back on and began fiddling with the buttons. "Payment? How are you going to pay, he works for Marcone, and is a specialist, he probably charges a lot."

"Look," she supplied, "It is their standard policy. You go in for an appointment, if he can't tell you what's wrong, you don't have to pay. And he can't lie to you because a fairy is on his staff and is the one that delivers the diagnosis. You taught me that fairies can't tell a direct lie. And about the payment, trust me, I asked last time I was there, I've got it covered."

"Murph," I sighed, "Just whatever you do, don't sell your immortal soul to anyone."

"I've been around you long enough to know that. Have a little faith in me, I'm not dumb." She pocketed her phone, and helped me with my last button. "I'm driving."

I followed her out, stooping a little as to not draw the attention of S.I. cops. I figured after the little take down earlier, rumors had already had time to form and circulate among them.

Murphy stopped at John Stallings' office door, knocked, and upon hearing a grunt, let herself in. I waited for her as she told her boss slash former partner that she would be taking the rest of the day off for personal needs.

I saw his body lean back and around in his swivel chair, and his eyes met my form in the doorway. "Personal needs. Hi Dresden."

I raised my hand in a gesture wave.

Stallings returned to sitting normally. "Yeah, go ahead. And be safe."

Murphy rejoined me, and my better mood brought back my smart-ass mouth, "What would you have done if Momma-Stallings said 'no' Murph? I don't think your mother likes you running around with bad boys like me." She kindly didn't comment that bad boys don't have meltdowns in their best friend's workplace.

Now that I thought about it, my mood was really picking up. The thought that this doctor might be able to help me gave me a little spark of hope in my dreary FUBAR day. While usually knowing that he was a consultant of Marcone's would cause me to be skeptical, in this instance it only reassured my hope. If Marcone had hired him, the man must have been legit.

So we crammed into Murphy's car, but she made me lay on the backseat. I was grateful because my back was hurting like holy hell since Stinky-the-security man had rammed all his weight into my bruising. Still it was tight. I had to lay on my side, staring at the seat, with my legs bent and curled up.

She drove quickly, but carefully. With my ear on the padded seat, I could hear the hum of the Saturn. Eventually we hit a little bump, and Murphy put the car in park. The humming stopped, and Murphy opened my door. She prompted me to get up, and only then did I realize we had arrived.

We were in a dark parking garage, illuminated only by the rays of the falling sun. I suspected we were on the ground floor or just below it. I let Murphy lead the way, and we headed in the direction of the staircase pillar at the center of the parking lot. I expected us to go up, but instead we took some ancient-looking dirty stairs down a barely illuminated staircase.

I sped up to her side and began to raise my shield around us. Murphy moved my hand down and shook her head. "Seriously, don't worry."

'Don't worry'? This looked like an entrance to Undertown. In fact, it probably was an entrance into Undertown.

Anticipating my rebuttal, she added, "Turn your little necklace-light on."

I touched my mother's pentacle around my neck, and invested my will in it. It began to glow a blue wizards' light. I raised it a little, and then I saw it, inscribed on an old wooden plate nailed to one of the overhead beams.

'Accorded Neutral Territory'

I turned to Murphy. "Stars and Stones Murphy. You're bawl'in."

In my dim light I could see her expression. She raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Nothing. Nevermind. Something that Molly says..."

She let out a sigh. This was probably more stressful on her than I realized. "Okay," she said, "Follow me."


	3. Chapter 3

We were walking through a tunnel that gave off vibes of doom and gloom, so when Murphy opened a weather beaten door at the bottom of the staircase and it opened up into a sterile white hallway, I was a bit thrown off my game.

Undertown was suppose to be slimy, stinky, and gross.

This. This was clean. Very very clean.

Murphy was already moving ahead, pulling me along. I tried to take in my surroundings. Mostly all I saw was white walls lined with doors. It was like being in a hospital, but without all the equipment lying in the hallways and no nurse stations.

Out of long-honed paranoia, I checked over my shoulder every few seconds. When you've acquired as many enemies as I have, this is a completely reasonable thing to do.

Murphy pulled me into one of the unmarked doors, and I nearly tripped over myself in surprise. The pristine white door closed behind us quickly without a sound. I saw the door frame vanish from the room, leaving only more white wall behind.

Murphy led me over to an immaculate receptionist's desk. A woman with pale skin and perfectly straight black hair that curved inwards at her chest height. Her thick lashes matched her hair, and when we approached, she looked up from her typing, revealing unearthly cyan cat eyes. A Fae then. Probably one of Winter's.

Her sharp eyes flicked to Murphy and then to me. They lingered on me a little longer than I felt comfortable with.

"Sergeant Murphy," she nodded mechanically to Murphy. "Wizard Dresden," she nodded in the same creepy manner in my direction. "You're on time. Good. Please take a seat. The doctor is currently with another patient."

We took a seat away from the room's other occupants. I hadn't noticed them when I'd come in. I'd never been to a real doctor after Justin took me in, so I'd never been exposed to the child like fear that was rumored to come from it. Well, I'd been to a normal doctor after my hand burned to a crisp, but never to one that actually had experience in dealing with people like me. And people with medical knowledge in the know-how were limited and hard to find. The fact that Butters had managed to help me immensely, was something I'd never expected from an average vanilla mortal.

I leaned over and hung my arms on my knees, twiddling my thumbs, and head bent down. Through the messy strands of my hair I could make out the other occupants of the room.

One of them looked like an average thug with acid-like burns running down his right pant leg, probably one of Marcone's guys. The good doctor must have kept himself busy being a part of a gangster's health benefits package. I smiled smug. Lots and lots of bullet holes.

A few chairs away was a platinum blond with what I presumed to be her daughter on the cusp of puberty. Something about her seemed familiar to me, but I couldn't place it. The daughter was scribbling in a notebook, and her mother was preoccupying herself with the contents of her super expensive purse.

All of us sat there for a while waiting. Finally, what I'd previously thought to be a wall, opened, revealing a stocky hunched form clad in a lab coat.

"Sergeant Murphy," the form called. Murphy rose and walked over to him, I trailed behind, shadowing her. When we'd reached the form, I saw it was an older gentleman who looked to be around fifty-five. His hair was grey and sparse, and he had a bit of a lug beer belly. The lab coat was a little on the short side, and I saw old cleaned blood stains coating the fringe. The man took a step back, making room for Murphy and I to enter, and he ushered us inside.

The door closed much the same way the one in the lobby had. When the door frame had disappeared completely from the wall, the man led us down the hallway and inside another indistinguishable white room that reminded me of the room I had been in when my burned hand had been looked at. The doctor took a seat and started making introductions.

"Hello Sergeant Murphy and Wizard Harry Dresden," he said in a soft and haggard tone. He raised up a hand in a silencing gesture, "Please don't tell me any more than that, as you probably already know, knowledge is power. It is in my personal interest to avoid such things in order to live a longer life. I don't want to get shot over something I've heard." He turned to look at me, "Although, Wizard Dresden, you seem to be doing a good enough job getting information out and about. You really should be more careful with flinging around names."

Even though it was clear he meant no ill intent, his comment made my stomach twist. The thought of someone using my Name, was a very scary concept. The thought of someone having that much power over me was not one I wanted to revisit.

The doctor continued in a voice that implied he had given this speech many times before. "As is my policy, I will not give you my name. You can call me anything. Most people use 'Doc' or some variation there upon. Understood? Any questions?"

When neither Murphy nor I responded he continued. "I assume Sergeant, you're here for the wizard?"

Murphy gave a kurt nod.

"Okay," he said, "Try to be quick. What brought you to me?"

I was about to reply, but Murphy did most of the talking for me. "I think you better look at it for yourself. There were some weird bruises that showed up last week, and now this. Never mind, you'll see what I mean."

Doc nodded as Murphy spoke, and then he directed his attention to me and patted the clinic bed beside him in two quick taps, "Up and at 'em wizard. Take your shirt off, lie on your stomach, and pillow your head with your hands." He snapped on some rubber gloves and turned towards me.

It wasn't hard to get on the clinic bed. I was pretty tall, and it only took a small little hop to get on it. I pulled my shirt off over my head instead of unbuttoning it and did as the doctor instructed. I heard Murphy walk over and saw her shadow as she leaned over Doc to watch him work.

I felt the weird feeling again. Hands on my back, yet not on my back. Instead of creeping me out, it just made me a bit sleepy. After a few minutes, I had to fight to stay awake, but inevitably lost track of some of the dialogue Murphy and Doc exchanged. Doc kneaded that spot with his fingers, and I felt some sort of light power flood through his fingers. I reminded myself, Marcone wouldn't have hired the Doc to take care of his people, if he wasn't trust worthy on some level. I also wasn't sure what other wards and precautions the clinic had in place, which was all that kept me from blasting him in my tired haze.

"Hmmm... Just as I expected."

Doc's voice brought me back to reality, and I pushed myself off of the clinic bed, and into a sitting position. "Mmmh," I groaned softly, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

"Ah, so you're with us finally."

I must have been out longer than I expected.

"Not that long actually."

Oh hells bells, Doc was a mind reader.

"I'm not a mind reader Wizard Dresden. You're facial expressions are just extremely revealing."

Oh.

"So," I asked, "Do you know what is wrong with me?" I was glad my voice didn't crack. I looked over at Murphy, who stood cross armed next to Doc. Her expression was pensive, but I also saw relief in her eyes and in the way she held herself.

"Ah, that is the good news Wizard Dresden. Although I'm not exactly sure you'll take it that way." He looked at my confused expression and continued. "There is actually nothing wrong with you. In fact, you're quite healthy for your demographic. And developing quite nicely, if a bit slowly, I might add."

"How," I started, "How can there be nothing wrong with me? What are you talking about?"

"I'm told you don't have any close relatives, so you probably weren't informed about your condition, although, I'm sure someone in your family tree knew," he droned on for a while, spouting mumbo-jumbo that I didn't understand. "It looks like, to me, someone on either your maternal or paternal side had a bit of outsider in them. You're sort of like a diluted version of a nephilim."

I laughed, I couldn't help it. "Nephilim. Isn't that a type of angel. Trust me, I'm not anything related to something with such good intentions."

Doc looked annoyed, as if I were some dense child who could not see reason. "Nephilim, angels, whatever, they all come from the Outside originally. Nephilim is just a collective term from those produced from a union of the Outside and the inside. I didn't want to use 'spawn' because demons -or demons as I'm talking about them- are native to our realm. The difference between the two is far and wide."

"The Outside? That isn't possible. The White Council bans reaching beyond the Outer Gates, if someone had summoned an Outsider, I think they wouldn't have lasted long."

"Boy, for supposedly being one of the 'wise' you are strangely ignorant. Those from the Outside have interacted with this mortal realm for millennia. The White Council is young compared to these beings. How do you think the White God got to this level of existence. He wasn't always here." He paused, looking at me smugly. I guess he sort of had a right to be smug. It isn't every day that you show-up a wizard in his own field of knowledge.

I did not like the doctor's blatant lack of professionalism though. I would have to ask Murphy later to send a bad recommendation of him to the internet. At least, Molly had said such a thing was possible. I crossed my arms grouchily.

"If I was one of these," I uncrossed my hands and made quote signs with my fingers, "Nephilim, don't you think I would have gotten the tip off before middle age. I thought these sorts of changes happened around puberty for the supernatural?"

"For one, you are not middle age. In terms of Mage lifespans you aren't even considered an adult yet. Second, who says there haven't been signs?" Doc answered looking at me, "In fact, it probably did start at puberty, you just aren't finished just yet. I did tell you, you are a bit on the slow side of this whole process." The doctor took a deep breath. "Point one," he began, "Look at you're size. You probably started growing taller at around fifteen or sixteen, am I right?"

"Yeah, so."

"Nephilim were giants, huge by ancient standards. That is why I presume you must have an outdated ancestor who was one, you're nowhere as tall as they are suppose to be. In fact, I'd bet you, based on the things I've heard around the supernatural circles, you're father was probably a little taller than you are now. Genetics, Genetics, Genetics. Dresden Senior is probably the source of your problem. I'd put money on it. I'm sure it wasn't the witch."

I sat there a little bit stunned. My father had always been tall to me, but everyone seems tall when you're little. Then I remembered in my soul gaze with Thomas, my mother mentioned I was 'tall like my father'. Maybe something Doc said was true?

Doc carried on, "Also, they're known for being anti-authoritarian and edge on the violent side. Both of which have been confirmed by rumors about you. All rumors have a seed of truth, no matter how obscured." His voice got softer, and lost all the pompous pride I'd heard earlier, "You've been developing these traits for a while now, all that is left is the extremely physical aspects."

"I'm turning into something," I muttered to myself. "A monster."

"No." Murphy spoke this time. Doc and I raised our heads to look at her. Her stance was firm and her fists were clenched at her sides.

"Actually," Doc broke the silence, "The Sergeant is correct. You're genes are too diluted to ever completely resemble an Outsider, but you will inherit some of their more prominent traits. In your case, it appears to only be wings."

It sounded so strange I had to ask again. "What?"

"Wings," Doc stated simply. "Consider yourself lucky. Descendants of the Outside usually are so malformed or mentally changed that they can't pass in society. Of course, you're not one of the extremely lucky few which look completely human, but you are certainly in the minority."

"Wings?" I questioned, still stuck on the foreign concept.

"Yes, and from the looks of things, your condition will be easy to manage or overt through other means."

"What does that mean?" I growled.

"Now don't get angry. You're going to experience that for a few weeks -heightened emotions and magical ability- so you've got to work extra hard to control them." Doc sat down on his swivel chair and turned it towards me. "These are the facts. Over the next few weeks your wings will slowly come in. How fast? I can't be sure. But that's what the bruising is -lots of pressure forming under the skin and muscle, as well as the strengthening of muscles you previously didn't have a use for. These 'new' muscles are also going to hurt a lot, much like physical therapy if PT lasted all day long. I suggest you start practice using them, it doesn't matter how as long as you do, because once they grow in they'll be too heavy to work with. At least I think. There is no way to tell how big they'll be when they come in. You don't have much of a family history to go on."

"Are you sure this isn't a magical disease or something?" I asked. "I think If I'd have noticed if my dad had wings. And for the record, he didn't."

Doc didn't miss a beat, "I really don't know Wizard Dresden. Maybe it skipped a generation, it isn't unheard of in modern medicine. More than likely he cut them off." Doc paused for a moment, "Or someone did it for him."

I put my head in my hands and massaged my temple. "Ughhh," I groaned in frustration.

"There are two options I already discussed with the Sergeant. One, a month after they come in fully, we could surgically remove them. Or, two, you learn to manage with them. Given what I looked at, both are equally beneficial options. If you choose the former, the pain is intense. Bone will be cut, muscles torn and chopped. I know it may seem like a good option now, but when the time comes it will feel more like you're chopping off your leg." He paused and let me take it all in. "Then there is option two. I found a fluffy down coating the area where they'll grow through, so it is safe to assume they'll be feathered or at least soft and flexible. Once you have control of all your muscles, you'll be able to wrap them around yourself or hide them in that large leather coat you wear around town. Your wardrobe is a bit of a blessing in this case."

"I'll probably just end up cut-"

Doc held up a hand and interrupted me. "Go home and think about it. Your choice may seem like the right one at this moment, but trust me when I say your perspective is going to change. I've seen this before in changelings."

I just grunted at him in reply, shrugged my shirt on, and shoved off the clinic bed and onto my feet.

"Wizard Dresden, a few more things. I've given Sergeant Murphy detailed instructions that you missed during your nap, which, I must admit, was partially my fault. I also suggest clearing your schedule for a while, this change is going to hurt, and someone of your caliber should not be making themselves such an easy target. I'll also inform my secretary to book you for a second consultation in two weeks time, I'd like to check up on you. And finally, no physical or written copies of the nature of your visit have been documented during your stay; and feel free to have my secretary re-explain your situation if you don't trust me already."

The doctor rose to his feet and led us out the way we came. At least, I thought it was the way we'd come previously, I really couldn't tell though with those disappearing doors.

"Thank you for your business, but now I have a White Court young lady I must attend to."

Murphy thanked him and exchanged pleasantries, while I stood there, trying not to think of my predicament. Murphy went over to the receptionist's desk and left me there. Then Doc called out a name and the mother and daughter stood up and approached us.

Before I knew it, Murphy had led me back to the musty staircase, and up into the parking garage. She took me home and gave me a big hug. "Harry, I'm really happy you're going to be okay. I know it isn't exactly what you wanted to hear, but you're going to be okay."

Even after the shit-day I'd had, this brought a smile to my face and I hugged back. Murphy was right. I only had to wait a few weeks and I could go back to living my not-so-normal-wizard-life.


	4. Chapter 4

The phone rang.

Or it was more accurate to say it had been ringing. I knew who was calling, and I hadn't answered.

I was sitting at my office desk, riffling through some papers in my desk when someone I recognized walked into my office. Without needing to look, I ripped the phone-line from the wall, and turned to face my latest client professionally and without the constant phone tolling my attention.

My client was a woman, the same older Asian lady from the Chinese restaurant I'd run into a week ago. She didn't seem as scary as she'd appeared in the restaurant. She was dressed nicely, in a long sleeved dress, and appeared as anyone's grandmother. Even though I had mixed feelings about her and her intrusion into my life, business had been slow and I needed the money, and so I decided to treat her as sugar sweet as I could manage. I got up and pulled out one of the chairs for her to sit in, and then walked back around the desk to my own chair.

She took the seat graciously and muttered, "Well, well, there aren't many young men who'd do that nowadays. You really are so polite."

I gave her my best smile and threw myself right into business. "How can I help you Ma'am?" I asked genuinely.

She placed both hands in her lap and seemed to fiddle with a ring on her finger for a while. "Right down to business, I do admire that in a person." She stopped fiddling with her hands, extended them, and let them relax against her dress. "My name is Mariam Young, and as I showed you last week I can tell future -futures I mean," she hung her head a bit, "I'm truly sorry about last week. Usually I'm more stable than that. I apologize if I came off as a little odd."

Odd...Try certifiably nuts.

She carried on her story, "Anyways, I've always been alone with my problem you see, my daughter didn't inherit it, but my granddaughter did. I've been teaching her -trying to separate reality from what she sees in her head- but sometimes it becomes a bit hard. I read your business card, and, -and I think you're serious about being a 'wizard' aren't you?" She quoted the word 'wizard' with her fingers. "Maybe," she choked out, "Maybe I can pay you to help my granddaughter. If someone who knew what was happening to her could guide her -maybe, just maybe she could turn out better than me."

She sighed. "It isn't as if I haven't tried to teach her myself, but," she gestured at herself with a wrinkled hand, "I don't want her to turn out like me. Just some crazy quack of an old woman just waiting to get thrown in a nursing home." Her body sagged into the chair, all energy drained from it.

"Tell me a bit about your granddaughter Mrs. Young." Although, in all honesty, I'd already decided to help her. The old woman's story struck a chord with me. I was going through something similarly terrifying and I would give anything to have someone to help me along the way. To have someone who'd already experienced it to look up to. I'd love to look at that someone and know that I'd come out of my own predicament sane and normal. I understood Mariam. Attributes she couldn't control had dictated her life and left her alone. She didn't want the same for her granddaughter.

Mariam dug out her tiny purse and took out a laminated photograph. It was of a teenager with straight black hair, dark eyes, and a vibrant smile that couldn't be fake. "This is her," said Mariam, tapping the picture with a long finger nail. "My Jocelyn." She took a breath and went on, "She's in high school now, and this family curse is starting to really affect her. At first it was bearable, but she's starting to isolate herself. She can't tell reality from fairy tale."

I didn't bother to tell her that fairy tales were real. It would only upset her. Besides, she was already bragging about her granddaughter non stop. It was kind of sweet.

When she hit a stopping place, I interrupted her. "I'll take the case Mrs. Young. I can't promise a full recovery, but I'll use what knowledge I have to better equip her for the future and help gain control of her gift. What day would your daughter be available?"

Mariam visibly brightened. "Oh. She doesn't have any school activities like the other girls, so she's free weekdays after six. I'm not sure about weekends though, she is a teenager after all."

"If it would be alright with you, and her, I'd like to get working on this as soon as possible. Procrastination only breeds problems. It just so happens my schedule is clear for the next few weeks. If you'd like I can schedule a session later today and on Thursdays."

"Tuesdays and Thursdays would be perfect Mr. Dresden!"

"And," I added, "I also have something that can help you out. I've set up this loose organization called the Paranet. It isn't anything too big yet, but if you'd like, I'd put a word out for a local prescient like yourself. Maybe I can find someone whose talent runs similar to yours. That way I can help both you and your daughter."

Mariam's eyes started getting glossy and filled with water. She took my hands in hers and held them tight for a few long seconds. I felt the slight charge that comes from contact with another practitioner. "Thank you Mr. Dresden. You've really been ever so helpful."

I nodded in reply as she took out her checkbook from her purse.

"I don't know how I can ever repay you -maybe-" there was a quick scribble on the check, "Here is a little extra something for all your efforts."

She ripped the check off and placed it face down on the table and then grabbed one of my post-it pads and scribbled down something. She rose to her feet. "That is my granddaughter's address. I'll meet you there in three hours. Once again, thank you so much for doing this. You have no idea what it means to me."

I just smiled back, and she strolled out the door.

After her footfalls had disappeared and I could no longer hear her, I picked up the check.

"Hells Bells," I muttered. That was definitely NOT a 'little' extra. Mrs. Young was loaded, and it looked like I had a steady and high paying job for a while.

Reluctantly I plugged the phone chord back in. Within seconds it was ringing again. Considering the person on the other line had pretty much gone out of her way to make sure I was safe, the day before; I did the adult thing, and picked up the receiver.

I waited a second to make sure Murphy was on the other line. It would be so typical of my life if I answered the phone only to have it be my landlord or a potential client instead.

"Dresden." Yup. Murph sounded mad. I'd even go as far as to say 'pissed'. Yeah. It probably had nothing to do with ignoring her calls for an hour.

"Karrin," I chirped over the phone. "You sound bright an cheery this lovely Tuesday afternoon."

There was a grunt on the other end of the line. A grunt that translated into : Don't push it or I'll do to you what I did to a plant monster.

"Dresden, the doctor said you shouldn't be working. So pray tell me, why when I called your house did I get your apprentice instead of you."

"Uh, well-"

"Or maybe you can explain to me why that same apprentice told me that you'd headed off to your office for the day."

"Murph, it is not what you think."

"What I think is that you're a masochistic workaholic who is so far in denial about his medical condition that he refuses to take even one day off."

"I can't just leave work Murphy. I know I make my own hours, but I can't just leave everything in disarray. There is documentation, calls to clients to get their checks mailed in, -important stuff."

"Uh-huh." She didn't sound convinced. "So now you're free of clients."

"Well, about that."

"You just got a new one didn't you?"

Even though no one was there to see me do it, I waved a hand pacifically in surrender. "It is way easy though Murph-"

She growled.

My speech sped up a lot. "It is only two days a week, the pay is high, and it is just teaching a kid some basics. Seriously Murphy, nothing to worry about. This is practically vacation."

She grunted. It was enough to know she was okay with this. "Just make sure you're home by eight o'clock. Remember the stuff we went over last night? The doctor told me the change would happen faster during the night time. Something about some magical stuff. -I don't know."

"Mmmm... My back doesn't hurt, I don't think one night is going to kill me."

"Harry. Don't tempt fate."

Whoops. I really should have known better.

"Don't make me come over there and force you to go home," she grumbled over the phone.

I sent a miniscule amount of will through the phone. Not enough to kill it, but just enough to make it sound static-y. Sometimes I love being a wizard. "What's that Murph?" I called through the phone. "I couldn't quite hear you. I think we're breaking up. I'll call you back later Murph."

"Harry, you ass."

I clicked the receiver back onto the cradle and chuckled.

I made a few more calls to clients who had not yet paid me and the bank to make sure I would make it for the month financially. Then I gathered my things and swung by my wizard hidey-hole to shower and gather the necessary things for my meeting with Mariam and her Jocelyn. I also asked Bob a few things about precogs and how to control their powers, every little bit helps.

I called Billy from my home phone and he asked the Internet for directions to the address Mariam had given me. Afterwards I headed off. I rode the L all the way to Rosemont close to O'Hare before getting off. I had to take a cab to get away from all the city hubbub, but the cab driver knew the area, and I was at their modern brick condo in record time.

I was paying my fare when I saw Mariam out of the corner of my eye. She was walking towards me, oddly able for a woman of her age. She greeted me, and led me towards one of the doors on the ground floor. She knocked four times and then let herself in with a key.

Before we could get the door all the way open, someone did it for us. The girl from the photo, Jocelyn, opened the door with a big smile. "I've been expecting you."

Of course she had. Typical of those with future foresight. Or maybe Grandma Young had just phoned ahead.

The two women hugged in an endearing way, and I felt out of place. Eventually, Jocelyn invited me in, which saved me the awkward embarrassment of asking someone to do it. Homes have thresholds; not houses, homes. Homes where families have lived and loved have the strongest thresholds I've ever come across. It was like a thick coating that kept out monsters and other supernatural baddies. It also kept out those with significant power, like myself. I could enter a home, I wouldn't burst into flames or anything, but I'd be leaving a huge chunk of my power at the door, and even the most basic of spells would become trying.

I followed the two ladies inside to what I presumed to be the living room. It was furnished like something out of a home decor magazine and it looked like something I could never hope to afford.

Jocelyn and her grandmother sat down on the couch, and I took the chair to their left. Jocelyn set her coffee down on the table and looked at me. "My grandmother said you could help me. That you weren't really a quack like Larry Fowler made you out to be."

I cringed. Susan had told me before, going on that show was a bad move, it wasn't till recently that I began to see just how bad my television reputation had hurt me. "I'm not going to make you do anything you're not comfortable with," I said in a cool and controlled tone. "Right now I was thinking of just working on stuff you can do yourself. Nothing too crazy." I hated passing off the supernatural world as 'crazy' or 'nonsense', it made me angry that people couldn't open their eyes and see what was right in front of them; but I also knew that these two women had not grown up with magical ties, and had been forced by circumstance to endure a gift they'd deemed a curse. So I swallowed my pride and anger, telling myself that I was here to help them, and informing them about the magical world would only confuse and scare them more. I didn't want to do that.

"So, Jocelyn, what is it like? I want you to explain it to me -what you feel, what you see- everything. There are several types of ways one can anticipate the future unique to the person. Sometimes it can be an overwhelming weight that happens all the time, and in others it is simply a sporadic glimpse."

"Um," she frowned, "I'm not sure were to begin, more or less describe it."

I settled into the couch. "Well, why don't you start by telling me when you noticed this-" I waved my hand in the air in a vague gesture, "Happened?"

She pursed her plump lips. "Well, I'm not sure exactly. I mean, I think it started recently, but It may have happened a little before that -it is all sort of muddled." She said it more as a question, as she looked up at me with her big brown eyes.

"That is perfectly normal," I reassured her, "Sometimes we pass things off as coincidence or luck and other times the art is more subtle. What about HOW you perceive these future events? Are they visual, auditory, both? Or maybe just a smell, a sense of touch, or even a vision? Do these moments of insight take place as you go about an action, or does it seem like you're temporarily drop out of time and then back into it at the exact point you left?"

She was starting to get a little overwhelmed by my questioning, so I stopped. But I could tell that all these alternatives helped her to figure out where her gift lied relative to the alternatives.

"Well, it isn't like my grandmother's. I'm not that strong yet, but from what she said it started out the same way. I only hear the voices." Her eyes watched my face carefully.

The poor girl probably was scared to death that I would think she was insane. After all, if someone told another that they were hearing voices, they'd be thrown in a mental clinic and labeled a schizophrenic. "And," I prompted.

She seemed to relax a bit in relief when I didn't judge her. "They started off small, like whispers really. I thought they were just the noise from the people around me at school. But then, one day I was bored, and I listened, and I recognized my friend's voice. But the strange thing was -my friend was sitting beside me, and she hadn't said a word." She looked down at her lap. It reminded me of how her grandmother had acted in my office. "As if that wasn't enough, then she turned to me and said the exact same words I had heard!"

"Does it always happen this way? You hear something, and then it happens a few seconds later?"

She nodded, without looking up. "Yeah, pretty much. I think the longest delay has been maybe five minutes. That one really gave me a headache."

"The gap isn't getting longer is it?" I asked concerned.

"No, they're always a few seconds in difference. The five minute one was almost a year ago."

"And the voices," I asked, "Are they getting louder still? Or have they stopped."

"They're about the same," she said, as she flicked a strand of long black hair out of her face. "Unless the person is going to scream or yell in the future, they're pretty much the same. They have been for a while now."

"Okay," I sighed, "Mrs. Young, is this about the same as what happened to you?"

"Yes," she nodded, "With the exception of the flashes of the future. I didn't get those till I was twenty five -give or take a year."

"Could you explain those to me?"

"It is like you said earlier, I'll be going about my day, talking to someone, and then - It's like remembering to take out the trash- you suddenly can see what you're suppose to do, but there is no actual image. Just an impression of what SHOULD have happened. And then I'm back, and the person I'm talking to continues from the spot I left off. I don't know how to explain it. It is like a memory -I call it a flash- that seems like it should be longer than the time it took to think of it." Mariam leaned her arm against the couch's armrest in exhaustion. "I don't really know how to explain it. It isn't something you can explain."

"It is alright Mrs. Young," I reassured her. "I think I've go the idea." I then turned to her granddaughter Jocelyn. "Thank you for telling me all this. That is all I really need today, I've agreed to come back on Thursday if you're still willing." I was giving her a chance to get out of this, in case I had put her off or scared her too much.

"No, no, Mr. Dresden," she said, "Thursday is quite alright."

"Okay, " I mumbled. "If it is alright with you, next time I'd like to get you working on some meditation techniques as well as some practice. We'll try to find out what sets these flashes off, and work to avoid those triggers. Eventually, we should get to the point where we actually practice using them, that way they won't hurt so much or leave you as flabbergasted in conversation as they usually do." I sighed. "I can't make them go away forever, but I can teach you how to pretend they aren't happening, so you can interact better with the people at school. I can probably teach you to ignore the voices and make them part of the background. We won't need many sessions. These are all things that you can practice and get better at yourself once you learn how."

"Thank you," whispered Jocelyn.

I reached into my duster and pulled out a small charm. "Keep this by you. It won't get rid of your foresight, but it will stifle it a little. It might make it easier for you to manage."

She didn't look like she believed me, but she took it anyways.

I gave her a quick smile, "I'll let myself out. Thank you both for your hospitality." Then I headed for the front door, and walked a few blocks to a local corner store. I asked the man behind the register if he could call a cab for me, and he refused until after I had bought something.

Five minutes and a Coke later, I was walking towards the sidewalk to meet up with my cab. I was halfway across the parking lot when it attacked.

Even though I'd finished early with the Youngs' session, the sun had already set and it was dark out. A large man in a grey jacket punched me in the gut, I doubled over and he followed up with a knee to my stomach. My vision went white with pain.

I was incapacitated for only a second, but it was enough. The man pushed me on my hands and knees and stomped on my maimed hand. Owch. I screamed in pain, and tried to push him off of me. His foot twisted on my hand agonizingly as he grabbed the back of my neck with one hand and pulled back the collar of my duster. I fell down to the cement and the man followed me down squatting.

Son of a bitch was trying to feel me up. And of course my stupid mouth started on autopilot again. "Hells Bells man, the goods aren't free. You've got to paayyy--- Ahhh. Stars that hurt!" The perverted mother fucker had reached down my back and grabbed at the stub of a wing that was starting to grow. Those things were sensitive. It hurt a lot.

I couldn't tell what he was doing exactly, but while he was occupied, I used the distraction to reach numbly into my duster thong with my un-abused hand. I found my blasting rod, and at an awkward angle, pointed it at him over my shoulder.

"Fuego."

You're not suppose to be in extreme pain when you use magic. It is distracting and any number of things could go wrong when you're will is shaky with pain. I had learned techniques in the past to block out the majority of it, but I hadn't had time to use them. The only thing that saved me in this case was the fact that I had used that spell my whole life and could probably pull it off in my sleep. Which, actually ended up being a major concern of mine when I set up the wards on my home.

Fire erupted from my blasting rod in a conical shape and the flames splattered against him. It was weak though, nowhere near as strong as normal, but enough to scare him off. My duster kept the flames from singing me, and the surprise of it made the man pull back his hand from inside my shirt.

My attacker recoiled from me, and patted the flames off quickly before running. I hastily pushed myself to my feet and pointed my blasting rod in the direction he'd run. He had already disappeared.

Eyes searching the parking lot cautiously, I rolled my shoulders, flicking my duster to its rightful position, laying over my shoulders. A moment later the cab I'd called pulled up. The timing of the cab industry made me want to set someone on fire -which, for me, was a lot more of an issue than it would be for anyone else.

Opening the door without taking my eyes off my surroundings, I got into the cab. I closed the door behind me, instructed my driver to drop me off at an L terminal, and cradled my throbbing hand close to my stomach. My back was cramping and burning where my attacker had kneaded my stumpy wings with his thick sausage fingers. I leaned forward to try and relieve some of the pain on my back. It didn't help.

I looked up and caught my driver looking at me funny. He must have had some sense from prior customers because he didn't ask questions. I didn't want to be seen on the L like this. I was afraid I would pass out before I got safely behind my wards.

"Actually," I choked out to my driver, "Just take me home. Fuck, I'll pay you extra."

I thought about calling Murphy, but decided against it. I'd never be able to go to work if she knew what had just transpired. She'd also make me file a police report, and there was no way in hell I was going to fill out all that paperwork.

I grunted and said to myself, "Guess I'll just have to call Butters."


	5. Chapter 5

After I made the call, I was sort of wishing I hadn't. The only one who knew about my little problem was Murphy. Oh. And the guy who had just jumped me. Anyways, I didn't like the idea of other people knowing. Murphy was different, because, well, she was Murphy. She'd stick by me even if I blew up the world or broke it irreparably. Saying she was my best friend would be an understatement on multiple levels.

But Butters wasn't Murphy. He was my mortician doctor -and he knew more about my physiology than anyone- but for some reason I wasn't as comfortable with him knowing as much, as I was with Murphy.

But the call had already been made, and whether or not he believed me on the phone would become irrelevant once he was force to look at me.

A light knock on my door signaled Butters. Mister gave a loud mewling sound as he hopped off my bookshelf in favor of ramming into my legs. Luckily I maintained my balance and managed my way over to the door. I unlocked the door and waved off some of the wards enforcing my threshold.

Butters was standing in the doorway with a backpack slung over his shoulder. I moved out of the way to let him in.

He fumbled with the bag for a second before slinging it over the arm of my couch in front of the fireplace.

I closed the door and sat down next to him.

He took a good look at my face for a moment. "God, Harry, you look bad."

"I wouldn't have called you here otherwise," I responded. "Patch me up Scotty." Despite my jeer, I was pretty anxious about this whole thing.

The mortician's eyes got wide. "Can I-" he stuttered, "On the phone you said wings? Can I - um touch - I mean see them?" I don't think he realized it, but his hands were really close to grabbing my shoulders and his fingers were twitching with anticipation. It was a little overwhelming.

"You mean you believe me?" And after a few seconds, "You're not creped out?"

He spocked an eyebrow and gave me a condoning glance. "Harry, around you I've seen a wizard's physiology that far outstrips our own, vampire corpses, mysteriously disappearing diseases, I've faced punk-rock zombies, necromancers, assassin-proof dusters, -hell-" his voice became shrill, "I rode the most famous dinosaur in the WORLD around Chicago while playing a one man polka suit." He paused and his voice returned to being timid once more. "To be honest, someone suddenly growing wings or any other growth really doesn't rate that high on my freaky-meter." He shrugged his shoulders almost defensively. "Sorry. These magical things aren't really hitting as hard as they use to. In fact," the little M.E. brightened, "I bought a bullet proof vest just a few days ago off ebay. I got a great price."

I just stared at him. He was taking this a lot better than I was. Which was disconcerting considering I was the one who was use to living in the supernatural side of the world. I shook out of my stupor and winced as I pulled off my duster. The weird part of me that felt close to my shoulder blades, but should have been my shoulder blades, throbbed from my assailant's attack. In the past hour the initial cramping and white pain had subsided a bit, only to have a stiff, tender, and swollen feeling added to the mix. "Sure Butters," I muttered through my teeth, "Take a look, and see if you can do anything for the pain."

"Ah yes," he reached behind him into his backpack. He took out a bottle of beautiful white pills. "I brought you the good stuff." Instead of handing them to me, he tucked them back into his pack. "I'll give them to you a little later."

I made a sound of protest.

"I don't really know what I'm dealing with. If I do something, or touch something, that I'm not suppose to. Your body will probably feel pain. The stuff I brought is very strong. I don't want to do serious damage because you were in lalaland while I worked."

I frowned, but it made sense.

"Hmmm," Butters muttered to himself. "How are we going to do this."

I waited apprehensively. I didn't like someone seeing me with wings on my back. It was strangely personal and I didn't like the thought of anyone knowing. I'd tried to be normal all my life, and these things on my back were not helping.

"Okay," he declared. "You're pretty tall, and I need to see well; so get on the ground with your back to the fire."

I folded myself to the ground and sat there crisscross, with my wrists hanging loosely off my knees, and my back curved forward.

I heard Butters pushing himself off the couch and walk around. He stopped and I heard him inhale sharply. Then giggle?

I turned my head to look at him, frowning and pissed.

"Sorry Harry. It is just-" he muffled another laugh. "You said wings, but those are more like fluffy stumps."

Needless to say I was not amused. It may have shown on my face. It may have been intentional. "They're growing okay. I'm sure they'll be big and wing-like soon!" I protested. "The Doc said it would only be a few weeks max."

"The Doc?" Butters looked like someone had punched him in the gut. I think I hit a sore spot by mentioning Doc. After all, Butters was for all intents and purposes my primary doctor over the years. Maybe the thought of me seeing someone else stung his pride. Or maybe his trust.

I pretended I didn't see his hurt expression. "Yeah," I waved my hand in the air nonchalantly, "Murphy got scared when these things started showing up, so she took me to see a doctor she knew. Just a one time thing. Too expensive you know?" Okay. Not exactly a lie. I had been scared too, but so had Murphy. She did know the doctor by acquaintance. I probably wasn't going to have a repeat visit even though it was suggested. And as for price, well, I didn't have an exact figure, but I'm sure it wasn't cheap. Everything in the supernatural side of things comes at a price - and usually not in cash much to my displeasure.

I felt Butters fingers on my wings, and I felt some of my almost-back muscles tighten and flinch at his touch.

"Oooooo," I heard Butters coo to himself. "Cool. It moved a little."

Moved? Was that the result of the momentary tightening I felt.

He touched one of my wings again and the same thing happen, except this time with a little cramp. I hissed.

Butters pulled back. "Oh, sorry about that." he said softly. "You've got a lot of bruising back here you know?"

"I already know that, I told you on the phone."

"Yeah," he continued, "But it is a lot darker than you described previously, especially around the base where your wings come out." He stopped for a moment. "I think that might even be some dried blood from some of these finger nail marks around it."

Well, that was scary, I didn't like the thought of someone using my blood. "How much blood Butters?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing too bad. Maybe a few drops. I'm sure it is crusted under his finger nails by now."

I relaxed a bit, because what Butters had said was true. Even if my attacker had taken extreme means to keeping my blood fresh, with that little such a thing wouldn't even be possible. If he were to use it at all, he would have to have done it a while ago.

"Luckily, these fluffy little guys look pretty unharmed. No dings or breaks in the emerging bone. A few bits of fluff missing and a few tiny feathery things ruffled, but other than that they look okay."

I don't know why I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't like I was going to keep them. My wings had a date with a bone saw in a little less than a month.

Butters continued, "You're back is a mess, but thankfully, just bruises. I don't know what I'd do if there was a bullet or something stuck in there. I'll put some of the salve on that your friend gave you. It works really well, you're going to have to eventually tell me where he got it from."

I laughed throatily. "Trade secret Butters. You only get to know if you take up a holy sword and fight the forces of evil every weekend."

Butters squeaked. Being the considerate wizard I was, I interpreted it as a grunt. "No, no," he said, "Weekdays are hard enough with my boss. I don't think I could handle working weekends."

Butters shuffled back to his backpack, searched for the salve, and brought it back to rub around my shoulder blades. My wing muscles spammed a few times before they relaxed and stopped. The rubbing felt good and I was overtaken by the sleepy warm feeling from earlier. I felt the hands stop for a second and I grumbled. Then they started up again.

The world was soft and cloudy when Butters walked around to sit down in front of me. He sat crisscross, mirroring me and took my hand into his own and started cleaning it with a damp paper towel and rubbing alcohol. The rubbing alcohol's sting was what woke me from my haze. Butters was meticulously cleaning the dirt, grime, and blood from my battered hand. I could see a wound showing on the back of my hand. My attacker must have stomped down pretty hard on it. It was nothing serious, but it did look like a bleeder. I was surprised I hadn't noticed before now.

"You know when someone touches your wings you start to fall asleep, right Harry? Kind of like a cat or something." Butters started putting on tiny tape-like strips that some doctors use for cuts just deep enough to avoid stitches. Steri strips -I think they were called. "I stopped rubbing around the base of your wings and you started waking up. Then I started again and you started falling asleep. Pretty funny," he laughed. "The great Harry Dresden defeated by a good back scratching."

I was still too out of it to care. If that is where the good warm feeling came from, maybe Murphy would be willing to scratch my back every day.

"Sheesh. If you weren't a wizard you wouldn't even have this hand after all it's been through." Butters eventually wrapped my hand in an Ace bandage before snapping his fingers in front of my face. I came out of my stupor almost immediately. "Harry, do you want me to leave you the drugs or do you think your back scratching high will suffice."

"Gimme the pills," I slurred. The slurring was completely fake, I swear.

"Also, if you're free this weekend, we could work on exercises for your wings sort of like what we're doing for your hand." This peaked my interest and I forced myself to sober up from my temporary haze. At least, enough to listen to him speak. "When I touched them earlier it only took two movements for the muscles to spasm. Am I right?"

I nodded my head in reply.

"Yeah, I figure you've had these muscles for years. But because you never used them -even in everyday things- you didn't build up any muscle mass or strength. Logically you shouldn't be able to move them at all right now, the muscles should be degenerative, and I'm not going to attempt to try to explain why they're active at all right now. If we can get some practice and physical therapy in, you may get better control of them."

"I'm just going to cut them off in the end," I replied. "I don't even need to learn how to use them."

Butters looked exasperated. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, "Your wings are going to grow, right? So when they do, gravity is going to pull them down to the ground. If they get big enough, they're going to pull on these muscles on your back. All that stress, and no way to relieve it - yeah, that is going to hurt."

Oh. Well crap.

"Normally people grow up slowly, and learn to use their muscles. Like babies learn to crawl, then walk. But these changes come slowly. You mentioned you have a month minimum. Your changes are going to be fast; I'm concerned that it is going to take a toll on your body. Probably a toll so significant I can't even contemplate yet."

"Whatever," I said.

"Harry, I know you want to brush this off, but you can't. From what you've told me over the phone, you have a very limited time table to work with."

I just grunted in reply.

"See you later Harry." Butters walked over to my door and had to yank a few times to get the bent steel door to open.

After he left, I went over to lock up and set the wards back up.

I walked back in front of the fire place, and slumped down on the ground. I sat crisscross like before, and tried to remember how I had felt when my wings had flinched away from Butters' fingers. I could sort of remember, but not really -like waking up from a dream. I focused my mind on moving the muscles I knew where there. It was sort of like the exercises I had done right after my hand had been burnt to a crisp. So I took it slow, keeping an eye out over my shoulder.

I tensed a few times in different ways to no avail. Then it happened. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. There wasn't much, but then again, my wings weren't exactly large, and right now resembled raised bone and clumps of down rather than typical wings. But I saw it!

I cocked my head for a better view and focused again on recreating that same clenching motion. My muscles cried out in a cramping pain, but I saw it clearly this time. It was strange. The skin on my back rolled in towards my spine and slightly raised around my shoulder blades. The down coated wings gave what I guessed was a tiny flap, and I smiled to myself in proud accomplishment.

Even though it hurt like hell, I tried it a few more times until I was sweating and exhausted. Despite this, I felt smug. I'd figured out the trick and could make my wing-things move all by myself. I grinned inwardly, thinking of all the ways I could scare Murphy.

I put that thought aside in favor of using what was left of my energy to question Bob about Jocelyn and her foresight condition. I also bounced ideas off of him concerning my attacker.

"Too bad," Bob said, "Are you sure a man attacked you?"

"Yes, well, reasonably sure anyways," I replied.

"A shame," brooded Bob. "If it was a woman, you could have just grabbed her boob. It would have been fair payback."

I dropped my head into my hands. "Not helping Bob. Think of something else."

"I'm more concerned with why they decided to attack you. They went straight for your wings," the skull mused. "So, who knew about your little problem?"

"No one really," I said, "I mean, I just found out about it myself a day ago."

"Well," muttered the skull. "Someone had to have known. Wings aren't exactly a common occurrence. It isn't like you were just a random target."

"You could tell," I argued with him. "You noticed a change in my aura the other day. Maybe someone else -something from the Nevernever- could have figured it out?"

"Maybe," the Bob replied.

I let out a sigh. "Okay," I stood up from my workbench. "Well, that's it lazy bones. Get back in your skull."


	6. Chapter 6

"So," Murphy said, blowing steam off of a cup of coffee in the kitchen alcove. "How do you hide them when you go over to Jocelyn's house?"

I stuck my head out of my bedroom and gave her a loopy smile. "That's the cool part! Watch." I stepped all the way out of the doorway and turned sideways so she could see my back.

Murphy was good people, and she'd already made it apparent that she wasn't the least bit freaked out about my wings. So, of all the people I knew, she was the only one I wouldn't feel awkward doing this in front of. Well, maybe Molly too, but she'd probably get overly energetic.

My wings had grown incredibly quickly in the past six days. They'd grown from stubby raised lumps of skin into down coated wings about the length of my forearm. It wasn't a bump or two any longer. It was actually bone and sinew that resembled actual wings. At this rate I was going to have to tell Butters that he was sort of right, I did kind of look like a chicken. A really fuzzy ugly chicken. When I asked Murphy about them, she'd said the Doc mentioned not to worry about it. The fuzzy down was only temporary.

I hoped so; a few days ago fuzz started piling up all over my apartment, and quite frankly, a few days ago was a few days too many. Given a few more days my fairy cleaning service could probably make a pillow or two out of the stuff. Just the thought of that was gross.

I shook that thought from my mind and resumed showing Murphy my newest trick.

I flexed one muscle a little, and the corresponding wing flapped a little stronger than I intended. Then I focused my breathing and reviewed what Butters had taught me the night before. Deep breaths and concentration. Both my wings folded inward, pressing gently into my back, and dropped down a bit. I relaxed and held them in place while I shrugged my duster on. The heavy leather of my coat pressed my wings down, so I didn't have to focus on doing it myself. It was also heavy and bulky enough to hid their shape.

I finished and twirled to face Murphy. "Ta-da. And now for my next trick - I'm going to make the couch disappear."

"You're a wizard," drawled Murphy, "I have no doubt you could veil the couch." A smile quirked up her features, "However, knowing you're the 'sudden violence' type, it would probably take you a little longer than most."

"Killjoy."

"You walked right into that one."

"So, you can't even tell they're there. Right?" I abruptly changed the subject. I pretended she didn't notice.

"Yes," she said in the same monotone. "For once I can actually be glad you wear the ridiculous thing around."

"Hey," I protested sarcastically, "Don't talk bad about my coat." I saw Mouse pad softly over to Murphy's side and I got an idea. "Hey Murph, want to see something cool?"

She spocked an eyebrow. "Oh, this should be good. Why not?"

"Okay, put down your coffee."

She gave me a look that meant 'Hell No' and said in the same voice, "Dresden, it is eight in the morning. My shift usually starts at twelve. The coffee machine at work is broken and the warranty doesn't cover acts of god. So forgive me if I don't forfeit the coffee."

I shrugged my shoulders, "Well, okay, but if something goes wrong-" I let my sentence end there solely for dramatic effect.

"Fine," she spat. And put the coffee cup down on the counter, and out of the way.

I beckoned to Mouse. "Mouse! Get the ball!" He left Murphy's side and returned with a squishy ball. Now my dog is smart. Smarter than most humans, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy a good bit of doggy fun every now and then. So the first chance I got, I bought him a ball. He padded over to me and I took the squishy ball from him. "Good boy, Mouse. Now get ready, I'm going to do THE trick."

Mouse huffed an affirmative and turned to walk across my apartment.

I slipped my duster off and let it pool around my feet.

"What? You're trick is how to strip?" Asked an under caffeinated Murphy.

"No," I replied, and then after a second, "Well, that could be arranged."

"Oh, just get on with it Dresden."

I flexed my wings a little bit, and then tensely pulled them back in tight. I carefully reached over my back and put the squishy ball between them. I abruptly flexed again and relaxed, flinging the ball into the air with my wings. The squishy ball flew, as if propelled from a catapult towards Mouse. I'd gotten my aim right this time, the coffee was safe. The foo dog left upwards and caught it, without hitting anything. He dropped the ball and sneezed in a muffled doggy way.

I turned to Murphy, "See! See! Cool right?"

Murphy looked unimpressed. "I'd be more dazzled if you didn't get that grey fuzzy stuff everywhere." She pursed her lips before adding, "I'm not cleaning that up." She picked her coffee back up and sipped it slowly. "How has the pain been?"

I gritted my teeth. "Manageable." And then I further explained, "My teacher taught me techniques to deal with pain, and I've learned a few more effective ones over the years, so it really isn't an issue." What I didn't say was that I refused to use the one taught to me by a fallen angel, because it was too effective - to the point where I could break one of my wings in my sleep and be none the wiser till the morning. "It is worse at night -a lot worse- but during the day it is bearable."

"That is strange."

"Not particularly," I replied shrugging my shirt and duster back on. "Doc says it is from an ancestor of mine who had kinky hijinks with something from the Outside. Magical and supernatural stuff is generally tied to the night, while the sun is a purifying force. So while it is unlikely that a something from the mortal realm would have this problem, something from my side of the block might find this ordinary."

Murphy grunted in reply. She wasn't the type to make conversation before coffee. Usually neither was I, but after an entire night of excruciating pain and cramps, just their absence boosted my mood and activity.

"You should change your schedule with Jocelyn. As it is now you're leaving their home after dark."

"Yeah, but the pain isn't that bad yet. Well, it doesn't start bad."

"Pain makes you vulnerable Harry. You've told me it makes it harder to work magic. What if that man attacks again? The man I had to learn about from Butters." She gave me an angry glare over her coffee. "Have you gotten any closer to finding him yet?"

I tensed up. Someone had attacked me in Jocelyn's home, someone who knew about my wings. I wasn't suppose to be working, though that hadn't stopped me in past experiences; but for some reason I'd been reluctant to put in the detective hours. I told myself that I'd find the guy after I got my wing problem fixed and was back to normal. But for some reason, right now, my instincts were screaming at me to do odd things. Stay indoors, with groups, and out of the dark. These activities that I'd never been interested in before were suddenly safe options. Hells bells, I was a wizard. I wasn't supposed to like groups. I was supposed to love going out at night to kick monster ass or banish ghosts. This change in attitude scared me more than the wings themselves. I mean, a transformation from a not-so-sane-wizard to a little girl (Murphy would have to excuse my language), would scare anyone. I'd have to ask Doc about it, preferably when Murphy was not listening in. I still had my manly pride.

"You could at least come down to the precinct and give the sketch artist a description."

"I didn't see his face Murph."

"Height? Weight? Anything?" She scoffed, "And you call yourself a detective?"

"Technically," I pointed out, "I'm a Private Investigator. It says so on that little Police Consultant's Badge you guys gave me."

"Fine," she mused. "Allow me to rectify that. Did you get his hair? Blood? Anything? And you call yourself a wizard?"

I eyed her. "It wasn't really on my priority list, you know, with my candle-wax hand spouting a growth that looked oddly similar to a man's boot grinding into it."

"Dresden," Murphy said, "I've seen how focused you were when you got the candle-wax hand in the first place. Pain is an impediment to you, but not a hindrance. Something has changed." She looked thoughtfully at her coffee before whispering in a soft and steady voice, "Are you afraid?"

"No!" My response was too fast and it came out cracked. I didn't even believe it myself.

Murphy looked shocked. "Oh my go- you are, aren't you?"

I thought about it for a second and didn't say anything. Could I be scared? Was this what all my odd behavior was about recently? It made sense. I tried to think about when it had started. When had I turned into such a wimp?

My eyes shifted back over my shoulder, where my wings were pressed down by my duster. Those.

"I think it is these wings," I said in all seriousness. "I don't know why, but I know it is them."

"That is ridiculous. They are physical growths, don't attempt to say they're messing with your mind. I know better than that. You know better than that. The Doc said that this thing -whatever it is- was purely physical. You're magic might be affected a little because there is more of you for it to run through, but it isn't what is causing this."

"Well maybe Doc was wrong."

"He looked like he knew what he was talking about. When he looked at you he wasn't surprised at all. Besides, Marcone wouldn't hire incompetent people or we would have arrested him already."

I grunted.

"Have you told Molly yet?"

"No."

"Any reason. Do you think she wouldn't take it well? Have a little faith in her, she manages to put up with your quirks more than me."

"I think she might take it too well," I replied. "With her family's religious background she might mistake me for one of those cookie cutter angels." I grimaced, and groaned, "The last thing I want to do is explain that angels don't have wings."

Murphy got very still.

I almost face-palmed myself. Murphy came from a devout Catholic family. Even though she hung out with a guy that practiced witchcraft as his day job, I still had to be careful not to step on her belief's toes. Ever since I'd shown up in her life I'd caused more trouble than good and had shaken her faith to the core. That wasn't just an assumption either, when I opened my sight back when I burned my hand, I Saw some of the damage.

Besides there was a difference between faith and knowing. I knew what existed, Murphy had faith. Faith had power, I'd seen it in action. The last thing I would have wanted was to remove whatever protection that faith allowed her.

Murphy waved the coffee cup in my direction. "Change your shirt, there is a big stain on it." She finished her coffee and turned to rinse it in the sink.

"Murph!" I complained, "I just put it on again!" I took my duster off for the third time in thirty minutes and started to peel off my shirt, careful to not catch my wings as I pulled it off. "Wax on wax off. Jacket on, jacket off. If I keep this up I'll be able to beat all the kids at the tournament," I muttered to myself.

Just as I was about to disappear into my bedroom, the universe decided to make my life even more complicated.

My front door opened and Thomas walked in.

"Harry, have you -"

I kid you not, his sentence cut off there.

"Empty night, Harry, what-" he floundered for the right words to say, "What the fuck?"

I turned to look at his stunned expression and a plastic bag dropped on the floor. My mouth flopped open and close a few times, but no words actually came out.

Murphy turned to look at me, her eyes questioning what to do.

Thomas broke the silence, still flabbergasted. "I come over to talk things over-," he gestured with his hand, pointer finger extended towards my back, "What? Your back. Harry?"

"Um," I gobbled out, "Uh. Don't panic."

"Don't panic?" His voice got shrill. "Don't panic?" I had a strange inkling that he was panic-ing. "You've got stubby baby duck wings growing out of your back, and you're telling me not to panic? Do you have any idea what my sister would say?"

I looked over at Murphy, and scrunched my face up in such a way that it conveyed my message. HELP ME!

"Empty night, Harry, when I said 'Call me when you need help', this is the sort of stuff I meant you should phone about. What-when-no, how did this happen?"

Which was when Murphy intervened and made my life all that more simpler. "Dresden, go change your shirt. We need to get going and shop for a new coffee machine to replace the one you broke." Then she turned to my way sexy brother, "Thomas, I'll explain it as quick as I can."

Knowing Murphy, she could probably break the news to him a lot more gently than I could. So I sauntered off into my bedroom and looked through my cloths for a clean shirt. Well, relatively clean anyways. In my line of work, blood spatters and ripped fabric were current occurrences. I'd learned to get most of the stains out, but blood was stubborn and tears didn't mend themselves. Needless to say, finding a decent shirt took a little bit longer than I cared for.

I walked in on Murphy explaining everything to Thomas in more detail I would have used.

"Something from the Outside?" Thomas asked a little horrified. Well, considering the Outside contained some pretty big monsters, I could sort of relate to his reaction. "Are you sure?" He asked tensely.

Murphy shrugged her shoulders. "That is what the Doc said."

Thomas nodded and rested his chin on his palm, his expression looked worried and conflicted.

"Hey," I called out to him, "It isn't that bad. It isn't permanent. Once these things are finished growing, I'm just gong to chop them off. Then everything will be back to normal."

My brother looked at me, his eyes shaded through his hair and just nodded noncommittally.

"Thomas," I pleaded.

He froze inhumanly still for a second, then relaxed, stood up, and strutted over to jab me lightly in the shoulder. He laughed, "Well, now you're never going to get laid."

I could feel my facial features harden. Seriously? He was going to make a critique on my sex life? Real mature Thomas.

I put my grumpy face on, which really wasn't that hard, and motioned towards the door. "Come on Murph. The coffee machine isn't going to replace itself."


	7. Chapter 7

It was the early morning, and I wished more than anything that the sun would come up already.

Sweat pooled off of my skin and soaked the sheets. My wings were as soaked as my sheets and plastered to my back in heavy lumps. I was gripping a pillow in my hands with such intensity that my fingers had turned purple and my knuckles were white. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think of anything besides the pain.

I had techniques for dealing with pain, but in order to do them I needed to be able to focus. As of now, my tormented muscles were making it impossible to concentrate. I wouldn't have been able to gather enough will to light a candle.

A few hours ago I'd woken from my sleep to a stabbing hurt that I'd grown to expect at night. My wing muscles cramped and knotted in seemingly endless sporadic patterns. It was as if someone was tenaciously kneading stone fingers into my muscle and twisting and pulling every inch of the way. And every so often the torture would subside to a discomforting throbbing, and then quickly be brought back in a stab of white, hot, pain. Imagine someone stabbing a knife between your two knuckles of your index and pointer finger. Now imagine that same someone twisting the knife, splitting the skin and forcibly separating the bones in your hand. That's what this felt like, except in my back. In fact, I was pretty sure that if the knife was taken out of the equation, then that would be exactly what was happening. Bone growing, bone separating, and dido with my muscles. Other than that, I couldn't really describe it, I was too busy trying not to scream.

I had tenants upstairs and more importantly, after hearing about my plight from Murphy, Thomas had made it his personal mission to stay. I really didn't want him to hear me scream. It's a guy thing.

The muscle spasms started again and one of my wings flapped as a result -the bone and muscle part struck my bed at a bad angle- and pain shocked my system. I bit down on my lip and buried my head in my pillow to prevent any sound from escaping. I must have bit through my lip because I tasted blood.

After a few seconds -which felt like hours- the one flapping wing slowed and fell back into place.

Then the moment I'd been waiting for happened. I felt rather than saw it; the sun begin to rise. The agony receded to a tolerable level and my sweat-heavy wings gave one last abortive flap. The pain turned into throbbing, and the throbbing turned into a dull soreness. Endorphins hit my body like a tidal wave and before I could even think about my new good fortune, I passed out, curled around my abused pillow.

I woke up to the sound of Thomas sneezing.

I tried to get out of bed, only to find my fingers were locked stiff around my pillow. It wasn't just my fingers either, my whole body felt like it had done a triathlon and then had the brilliant idea to run a marathon. I worked my fingers slowly, open and close until I got movement back in them. I moved on to my elbows, neck, and other joints.

Finally I could sort of move, and managed to push myself to a sitting position, careful not to roll on my back. I'd learned early on that sleeping on my back was no longer possible, and it was either conform to face-down naps or face an uncomfortable twisting feeling. It reminded me a bit of one of Murphy's arm locks.

I stretched my arms forward, interlinking my fingers and pushing away from me. My wings unfolded and stretched backwards. I ended the stretch and they quivered once, then flapped back to hang loosely from my back. Mornings were like this now. My wings were stiff and heavy from the night before, and pooled uselessly from my back and off the edges of my bed. I steadied my breathing and focused on moving my wings a little. I wasn't very good at controlling them yet, but a little exercise never hurt. Sometimes I found out I could do a cool trick to amuse Murphy with later.

I finished my morning routine and let them relax. I reached around and grabbed the muscle part of one of the tips -It felt weird, like I was holding my own hand- and gently brought it to rest on my lap so I could see it.

Doc had been right, my wings had gotten huge. They hung from just above my shoulder blade line down just below my knees. I looked at the tip I had on my lap. The bone and flesh part was still coated by the grey fluffy down, but it was considerably less than before. Every day more was fell off, revealing more mature wings like Doc had said. From far away I guess they looked like feathers, but up close they were no where near the same category. The appendages had the shape of feathers but not the texture or liking. Proportionally they looked the same size, but the base of mine sort of merged together with a membranous skin around the bone and muscle. I ran the fluffier part of the tip through my fingers, it felt soft and raw like baby skin. I couldn't really feel it though, it was like someone was playing gently with my hair.

I looked down, and my wings were a dark grey mixed with dark brown that matched my hair.

I was brought out of my trance by Thomas' voice. "Harry, I know you're up. Murphy just called. She said you had a doctors appointment or something, so hurry and get ready."

I grunted loudly in agreement and slid off the bed. "I'mmnnn gonna take the shower." It came out a little more slurred than I liked.

I turned the water on and jumped in quick. Being a wizard, and thus walking technobane to everything modern, I was constantly given the short end of the stick in this game called life. And got cold showers. Every. Single. Day. I growled at the cold water before jumping in. My wings beat at the water and I had no control over them. I cleaned fast but efficiently and was out in five minutes. Grey down clogged the drain.

I was cold and my wings were shivering violently. Thomas had given me a wonderful suggestion for dealing with this though. I concentrated and flexed my wings quickly a few times. They spread quickly and flapped wildly around. Water fell off every which way and my wings got really puffy, but they were dry. I dried off the best I could with a towel and pulled on some jeans and decided to wait on the tank-tee I'd borrowed from Thomas. Putting clothing on over top of my wings was uncomfortable and restrictive.

The problem with big wings is that they couldn't be hidden anymore by my shirts. My duster still disguised them, but my regular shirts just didn't have the space.

Still, I'd just gotten out of a freezing cold shower, and was -well- freezing cold. So I grabbed the tips of my puffy wings, and wrapped them around me. After a few minutes I felt warm and cozy.

I padded into my kitchen alcove, my large wings trailing behind me, and poured some coffee. Thomas had evidently been up for a while and had made some. It wasn't cold yet, but it wasn't steaming either.

I could feel someone's eyes on me. Thomas. Ever since he'd learned of my condition I'd become his sole fascination, to the point where he decided to temporarily move back in with me. Normally this sort of attention would be flattering, but since it was him, I found it borderline creepy.

"Rough night?" He asked.

I considered how strange it was that Thomas actually wanted to have a serious conversation with me. In the past we avoided deep topics to the point that it confused the hell out of Murphy. But now, all of a sudden he was all smiles and chatter. Weird.

"Yeah," I mumbled. "I'll ask the Doc, but I'm pretty sure I'm almost done with this." I raised my coffee cup in the air in mock cheer. "Being able to sleep at night is going to be amazing."

"It's just pain right?" He asked, "Nothing else? Have you been feeling weird? Mood swings?"

"Mood swings?" I questioned. "Really?"

Thomas carried on like I hadn't interrupted. "Stronger magic? I don't know - anything new?"

"Uh," I laughed awkwardly, "No."

"Feel the urge to kill anyone?"

I stopped sipping my coffee. What the hell kind of question was that. "Uh, just you at the moment if you don't stop being a complete asshole." I set my coffee down. "Hells bells Thomas, I'm just growing wings, not turning into a blood thirsty monster."

"Sorry," he whispered. I could barely hear it. "So, you're going to the doctor today?"

"Yup," I replied. "Murph is gonna be here soon to pick me up. I can't drive with these things on my back. The blue beetle is too small and sitting normally is awkward and painful. It is like sitting on your own twisted hand for an hour. Trust me, not fun."

"Does the good doctor know which kind of creature you inherited this from?"

"What is with all the questions," I chided before answering, "Doc says something from the Outside."

Thomas' face darkened and his body tensed up. "An Outsider?"

"Um, I guess technically." I looked at his worried expression. "Don't worry, I don't think it will happen to you. Doc says he's pretty sure I got it from my dad." Despite my reassurances, Thomas didn't look relieved one bit.

I stepped into the bathroom really quick and grabbed the crumpled top Thomas had lent me. I carefully shrugged it on, and it crushed my wings into my back uncomfortably.

"Here," I heard Thomas say, "You're going to stretch that out. Hold still." He grabbed one of my wings and carefully pulled it out from behind the fabric. He did the same with the other wing. Finally both were semi free over the low crop of the tank top. "Uh," murmured Thomas, "Look at that, you already stretched it out. What is with you and breaking my things?"

"I don't break your things."

"My car, my dvd player, and now my shirt. This particular one was for frat boy night."

"Oh joy, what a loss."

I heard a knock on the door, followed by someone twisting the key in the lock. It clicked, and the door was shoved open. After a few tried, I saw Murphy step in, holding the amulet I gave her in her hand.

I smacked my head as I remembered something. "Murph, give me a second. I want to bring Bob. That way I'll have a reference if I need it."

Before she could answer I moved some rugs out of the way, and pulled up the trap door to my sub basement. I flung myself down the stairs and into my lab. I murmured a few words and the candles lit themselves. I grabbed Bob, whispered out the candles, and quickly stomped up stairs.

I grabbed my duster off the sofa back and put it on whilst balancing Bob's skull in my hands.

Murphy was giving Thomas a weird look and then motioned for me to hurry. I headed out the door with her. We piled into her car, just like two weeks before.

"They've really gotten big," said Murphy. "I mean, the doctor said so, but I really didn't believe him until now."

I nodded. "Me neither. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced it is a curse."

Murphy was about to protest, but I cut her off.

"Of course, I know it isn't a curse, I would have felt magic by now. It is just -" I sighed, "I supposedly got this from my dad, right? But he always looked human to me. I never saw him with these, and I think he would have mentioned it."

"You are human," Murphy countered sternly. "Don't ever think any differently. You're a wonderful human, and a good man."

I slouched. I'm not good at taking complements, but hearing it from Murphy always brightened my day. "I didn't mean to imply anything."

"I know."

"I just find it hard to believe. Everything about this is so surreal."

"This coming from a wizard?" she giggled playfully. "Really, I thought you guys were by definition believing in the surreal."

"Haha. Very funny."

"But think about it this way Dresden. Parents don't talk to their kids about a lot of growing-up things. They're just kids and don't need to know all the details yet." She checked the rear view mirror, presumably to see if I was okay. My dad was a soft subject and she knew that more than anyone. "He probably thought he would have more time with you."

I caught her eye for a dangerous second and saw them cloud up. I quickly looked away. Sometimes I forgot Murphy had daddy problems too. I'd been six. She'd been eleven.

We drove in silence for a few minutes before Murphy broke it with shop talk. "So Jocelyn, how are things with her?"

If there is one thing I love to talk about, it is magic. "Stelar so far," I replied. "She's a quick study and we've developed a few techniques to block out the foresight. Well," I corrected myself, "Not block the foresight. You see, her gift is primarily auditory. We've been practicing triggering these auditory precognitions so that she can get use to them. We're getting to the point where she can ignore them as background noise for the most part."

"Triggering them? Won't that make them worse, and maybe develop into her grandmother's condition with being able to have visions to go with the sound."

"Maybe," I said, "But I've asked Bob about it-"

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," interrupted Bob. "The idea milady," he addressed Murphy, "Is to temper her into a specialist. If we strengthen the auditory aspects of her gift, not only will she be able to control them, but her gift will likely specialize in that direction."

"Is that even possible?" Murphy asked. "I mean, just because you work out your upper body, doesn't mean you still can't walk or use your legs."

"Valid reasoning mistress," Bob purred, "It isn't to say she'll loose the potency for visions, just that they'll be less likely."

I cut in, "The reason why her grandmother has such a problem with visions, is because on some level she's actually encouraging them instead of the auditory ones. Or she believes that visions are the final stage of her gift. Wether she realizes it or not, her gift has been growing because of her beliefs and actions."

"But what if it really is the final progression, and Jocelyn develops the visions anyways? Won't your teachings be less effective?"

"No," Bob said. "It is magic. It doesn't work that way."

"Explain it to me then," prodded Murphy.

"You won't understand it, so I'll give you an example instead." Bob twirled in my arms to move his orange-mote eyes to me. "Harry is a wizard. Even though he had the potency to work enchantments and create magical tokens, he specializes in two areas. Thurmaturgy and evocation. In other words, he is really good at setting things on tracking things and setting them on fire."

"Bob!" I yowled.

Murphy politely didn't comment.

"Anyways, even though he specializes in these areas, that doesn't mean he can't work more subtle magic. But his talent for it has decreased as he focused on fire, wind, and force." Bob seemed to consider his words for a second. "Actually boss, it was smart to switch from wind to force. They're very similar, but force is much more effective. So more accurately fire and force."

"Okay," said Murphy, "I can sort of see it happening now." She turned into the parking garage from before. "So you aren't doing anything to get rid of her ability? You're just trying to gain finer control over it?"

"Yup," I chirped. "Other than some pretty invasive black magic there really isn't another option. Besides, her ability is part of who she is, her heritage, destroying it would be a waste."

Murphy's facial features were stern, and she eyed me through the rear view mirror, before parking. "Okay, we're here."

We climbed out of the car and went down to see Doc. There was no one here oddly enough, and he saw us right away. I was glad, because that creepy secretary made me uneasy. I'd like to think I'd learned my lessons from the fae in the past.

We waltzed in behind the Doc, with Bob held tightly in my hands. Doc gave me a look and I said, "He's a record keeper. Wizard stuff. To record the visit in case I forget anything."

Doc didn't look very happy about the skull.

We followed him in the room and he closed the door behind us. I handed Bob's skull off to Murphy. Bob's orange mote eyes popped on and moved upwards to look at Murphy.

"Murph, be careful to keep that perv away from your chest. He's almost as bad as a dirty old man."

I took off my duster, but my tank was a little bit harder to get out of. I was glad the fabric was loose and stretchy and I managed to get it off by myself.

I was about to hop on the clinic bed when the Doc stopped me. "That won't be necessary," he told me, "You're plenty tall already, just pull up that chair and have a seat."

I sat down and leaned over putting my elbows on my knees. I tried my best to relax. When Doc started touching my back, I felt the sleepy feeling I'd grown accustomed to, and finally did relax. I stayed awake though this time.

"Any stress recently?"

"None, with the exception of his roommate's weird behavior," Murphy clarified.

"Mmm," said Doc, "One person shouldn't hurt anything." He stopped touching my wings.

"Okay wizard," Doc announced, clapping his palm on my shoulder in a grandfatherly fashion. "You're nice and healthy. And I see you've put on a little weight, which is an improvement from skin and bones."

"So, what's up Doc?" I said in a very bugs bunny way. "Well, what else anyways."

He sighed. "Humor. I guess the initial fear has worn off then." He shook his head muttering about some rumors being true. "Honestly they're about full grown." He gently held the inter ridge of one of my wings and spread it wide. It took quite a bit of effort on the Doc's part, they were after all pretty heavy.

I looked over my shoulder and could see the wingspan. It was huge and the tips brushed up against the wall five feet away. "Wow," I whispered under my breath.

The Doc looked at me. "Bet you didn't even notice how large they've grown." He released my wing and it gave a tiny flap before falling back down to join its double. "It looks like your muscles and wings are almost through developing. I've noticed you've been working them out -good. I can tell. The last bits of fuzz down should flake off in two or three days max. Quite honestly, I've never seen a nephilim develop so fast. That must have been very painful, had I known I would have recommended some medical grade pain killers."

"So'kay Doc," I grumbled, "I got a hookup."

Murphy shot me a glare.

"What?" I questioned, "Molly says it all the time."

She ignored me and turned to Doc. "The creature they're originally from, this Outsider, what purpose did its wings serve? They're not just there for decoration. What is their function? They look to heavy and strange to be flight."

"Hmmm," Doc mused, running a finger carefully through my wings' feather like tips. "If I had to guess I'd say it is similar to creatures who use it for defense."

"Seems a little soft to be any good at blocking gun shots," Murphy retaliated.

"Not that kind of defense," replied Doc. "Wizard, have you told the Sergeant why your kind dislikes engagements with Outsiders?"

"That's easy," I answered, "Outsiders are resistant to most magics, but they are extremely easy to summon by mortal hand."

"Yes," responded the Doc, "I believe these wings are one such manifestation of this ability. Protection from the sunlight, protection from dimensional travel, and protection from magic."

I thought about that for a second, and it shocked me. I was virtually walking around with the equivalent of a fully powered impenetrable forcefield. Trekies would be jealous. In battle with my enemies, something like protection from magic would be invaluable to have. The number of foes I could defeat, without having to worry about myself, would be incredible. I could go up against beings like Cowl and only have to worry if he brought a gun to the party. I'd be safe. That have that kind of tool -that kind of power- it shocked me into silence.

"So," offered Doc. "Did you think about what to do with your wings when they're done developing?"

I looked at him and didn't say anything. For the first time I felt unsure about the issue. 'Come on Harry' I told myself. 'You've decided already. It is a little late to be changing your mind.' Still no words came out of my mouth.

Murphy, looking grim, responded in my absence, "If it is alright with you, I think he needs a little longer to decide."


	8. Chapter 8

"Good, Thomas is finally gone," whispered Bob. "Boss, there is something I need to tell -well, ask- you."

"Bob, it can wait, I'm almost late to my appointment with Jocelyn," I complained.

"You haven't told him about your Outsider heritage right? Please boss, tell me you haven't."

"Um he knows," I turned to look at the skull confused. "Why does this even matter?"

"Oh, Harry. You need to stay away from him, it isn't safe."

That pissed me off a bit. "Stay away from him? I'm not going to avoid him! He's my brother!"

"Boss!" Bob sounded scared. "Just wait! Hear me out -okay? I can't say much, but he hunts Outsiders, and those who collaborate with them, down. It's like his part time job. I can't really say anything else."

"Stars, I don't have time for this crap," I shouted at the skull.

"Harry, listen to me! You're not safe here! I really would rather you stay alive and remain the owner of my skull. You're one of the best caretakers I've had in a long time." I ignored him and grabbed my staff and a bag with books in it for Jocelyn. "Boss! Boss! Harry!"

Bob continued calling me from my lab. I ignored him and slammed the door behind me. I armed the wards quickly, which was impressive given my mood. The rushed tension I felt to get to Jocelyn's home was replaced by anger. Anger at anyone who would accuse my half brother of conspiring against me. So it was a good thing that I got away from my apartment.

Emotions for a human are bad enough. Emotions for a wizard could turn deadly.

I broke into a jog towards the drop off for the L. The running helped ease my mind and some of my anger slipped from my mind. I arrived at the station early. No one was there, and it was just me and my thoughts. Not my favorite combination.

I sometimes threatened to smash Bob's skull when I got grumpy or annoyed; but I doubted even Bob knew how close he came to that actually happening. Thomas was the only family I had. Any threats to him, no matter how subtle or well intentioned, I did not take well. Murphy had been someone close to me who'd made that mistake. If it weren't for a conveniently placed bomb explosion, she might have noticed just how much danger she'd been in. Thankfully the many pieces of her Saturn distracted her.

But the rage felt the same and the betrayal felt worse. I knew my friends only meant the best, but it still made me irrationally mad.

Eventually the L showed up and my anger had somewhat quelled. I clambered in and grabbed a pole, determined to stand for the duration of the trip. A cold feeling overtook me as I considered Bob's warning.

Even if I didn't want to believe it, Thomas had been pretty strange recently. He'd moved back in -something I honestly believed could never happen. He'd been very supportive of deep conversations, which was something guys don't do on principal. On top of all that, he was lending me clothing and being the best roommate slash hospice nurse in the history of the universe.

But the thing that struck me the most was the topics of our conversation. I'd noticed we'd always ended up talking about my wings. More specifically, where they came from. In short - Outsiders. I remembered his facial expressions when we'd talked about it and a shiver vibrated through my bones. I'd interpreted them as pity mixed with a pinch of disgust, but could they have been something else entirely? Was my brother judging me? Trying to figure out if I was plain old Harry or a monster who deserved killing?

Hells bells, he'd asked me if I had the urge to kill anyone. The realization and its irrefutability hurt more than any accusation.

I breathed heavily and sagged against the L's compartment frame. I wished I had Bob with me now. He'd have a suggestion or at least a pervy tid-bit to lift my spirits.

But I was alone.

The L reached Rosemont and i got off. I took a cab to Jocelyn Young's home. The taxi driver was the same as the last few times I'd been out here. He'd figured out I made a perfect regular for his taxi business, and had been there waiting for me the last three times. I hoped it didn't hurt his schedule too much.

I tipped him extra. With the Young's paycheck I could afford to. I pushed myself out of the cab and walked up to Jocelyn's front door. I knocked and a clean shaven faced man opened the door for me. He looked like he was in his late forties with neatly combed back thick black hair. He had small facial features, but was relatively tall. Maybe half a foot shorter than I was. He looked plenty classy, and I immediately felt underdressed in front of him.

"I presume you're the Mr. Dresden I've been hearing about so much lately." He wasn't condescending sounding, but I got the distinct impression that he didn't approve of me.

I bit my lip and held back the flow of snark that mindlessly flows out of my mouth when I get nervous. This was Jocelyn's home, and she was going through a rough time. I didn't want to inconvenience her by being forced to leave because I couldn't hold my tongue in front of her guests.

So for once in my life I backed down. Now I really new something was wrong with me. Harry Dresden back down? That didn't sound like the reckless wizard who would face off against demigods and psycho fallen. Thinking these things didn't help my nerves, and I became more nervous. The man interrupted my thoughts.

"I'm Jocelyn's father." He stuck out his hand, and I shook it. I expected the twinge of a practitioner, and was surprised when I didn't feel one.

"Nice to meet you, um-"

"Abbott. My name is Abbott Young. Nice to finally meet you Mr. Dresden." A genuine smile came over his face. I could read the undertones. 'Whatever you're doing it is helping my daughter. Thanks'.

I plastered on a smile that I hoped would match his, and followed him in as he held the door. Lucky me, Jocelyn had already invited me in because I seriously doubted her father would extend that courtesy to me. The way he looked at me, it seemed he'd probably seen me on The Larry Fowler Show.

I tried to not make too much of it for Jocelyn's sake.

Abbott offered to take my coat, but I needed it to hide my wings, so I refused as politely as possible.

Jocelyn was on the couch waiting for me. Her grandmother Mariam was nowhere to be found. Jocelyn gave me a quick smile and I sat down in the chair closest to the couch. I fanned out the back of the duster so it hid my wings without me having to sit on them.

"Um," I rumbled through my bag. "I brought you some books. Nothing spooky, just meditation stuff. Well, one spooky one. I went through them last night and highlighted some of the parts I've heard actually work from a close personal friend." I found the book I was looking for, took it out of the bag, and handed it to her. "This one, you should read chapters nine and eleven. They're towards the later part of the book, we've already covered the stuff in the earlier chapters, but if you want to do a quick refresher, then I highlighted a few things in chapter three."

Jocelyn nodded and wrote down my babbling on a small notepad.

"And here is another one." I handed her a slim book that looked more like a magazine with its slick plastic coated cover. It was pitch black with the words 'Volume III' printed in small white letters on the front. I got this from the organization I'm a part of. I'm going to need this one back, because I actually just checked it out of their library, but you can read through it. There is a lot of detail, and some things you may not understand. But I read through it, and it was written by a woman who had a condition very similar to yours. This will probably be the most effective one in my opinion."

I handed it to her, and she took a minute to stroke the cover. "Let me guess," she said, "This is the spooky book?"

I snapped my fingers. "Yup. You got it in one!"

She giggled.

I reached in my bag and handed her the last book. "This one is just a self help book on controlling emotions and what we show on our faces. It is actually my friend's. She's a cop and I borrowed it. This one you can pick up anywhere, but she recommended it. I know it won't help you deal with your gift, but it will help you deal a little better with society. Which actually might be more important."

She took the book and stacked it on top of the others. "Thanks."

I nodded and leaned up. I was careful to keep my back off the chair to keep my wings safe.

Her father hung around, over her shoulder. His presence made me nervous and I postponed triggering an auditory foresight event because I was wary of his reaction. This was his daughter. If her eyes rolled into the back of her head while I was around, I wasn't sure I'd make it out the front door.

Jocelyn seemed to notice this and turned her head. "Dad, could you go in the kitchen?"

"Why?" He seemed a little angry and a lot possessive.

"I could really use something to eat. Mr. Dresden and I only have about fifteen minutes left of our appointment, so if you wanted to start dinner, that would be -" she fumbled with the words, "Nice."

Abbott shot me a glare for a few seconds, and no one in the room moved. Finally he turned towards the kitchen. "Okay. Just - uh- tell me when you're done."

"Okay."

Jocelyn leaned a little closer to me. "Sorry about that."

I waved my hand dismissively, "No, it's okay. He's your dad. He wouldn't be doing his job if he felt okay with leaving you alone with a tall scary man."

She suppressed a laugh.

"He cares about you. That's what's important. By the way, does he know about your gift?"

Her face darkened a bit. "Not exactly. He thinks there is something wrong with me. I've been to a few doctors and therapists. They can't find anything wrong. He's scared that I'll end up," she raised her hands in front of her and quoted the air, "'Crazy' just like his mother."

"Ah, that is tough, he doesn't believe in magic."

"Sometimes I think he's right, and I'm just insane." Her eyes started clouding over forecasting the tear storm.

Don't cry! Don't cry! I panic-ed. Not with the dad in the other room! "Hey hey hey," I pleaded hurriedly. "Jocelyn, Jocelyn sweetheart. You're okay. I promise you. You're going to be fine. Look at all the progress you've made. It's been easier in school right?"

She looked at my eyes, and I broke eye contact quick before a soulgaze could occur. "Yeah, Linsey and Becca are talking to me again. They asked me if I wanted to hang out this Saturday." She sniffed a little, and I swear Abbott had supernatural hearing that rivaled mine, because he stuck his head out of the kitchen with murder in his eye.

"Okay. Let's do this before your dad comes back and drives me out with a steak knife."

That brought a grin to her face. "Okay."

So we practiced a bit. I planned several things to say, and had every intent to say them. Then I ran a small bit of magic through her hand and it happened. Her eyes rolled back into her skull. A second later it stopped. At the same time we said, "My cat owns my life."

"Seriously?" Jocelyn looked skeptical.

"Yeah. I'm just that lame." I paused and got my mind back on track. "You got it perfect this time. Let's try it some more. If you're perfect on those then next week we'll focus on getting rid of the eye roll thing."

She nodded seriously. "When I'm with Becca it happened twice, but I was able to turn it into a sarcastic eye roll instead of a crazy nut job eye roll."

"Good. That is good enough for now. We're just trying to help you get by. Maybe next time we can prevent it from happening in the first place."

We triggered Jocelyn's gift a few more times and talked about the specifics of what she felt when it happened. Finally I gave her a quick overview of next time and asked her about how school was going.

Finally it was time to go, the sun had set and my wings were beginning to cramp, but it was bearable. I stood up and thanked Jocelyn for her hospitality. She held the books I gave her close to her heart and her father walked over to stand by her side.

"Mr. Dresden, if you'd like to stay for dinner, we'd be pleased to have you." He put his arm around his daughter's shoulder, the way you only see in movies or awesome families. I felt out of place immediately. Maybe it was my messed up background, but whenever I saw perfection like this I felt intrusive, like my being there would somehow break it. He continued before I could say anything. "Really, I must insist."

My stomach decided to rumble at that moment. Traitor.

"Well, I'd be honored." Whoever said I didn't have manners would be shocked.

I trailed them into the kitchen and we sat down for a wonderful meal. Abbott had made burgers and a side salad. It tasted great. I was so immersed in eating that it took my mind off my back pain.

When we finished, I bid them farewell and thanked them for the food. Jocelyn left and Abbott moved a little closer so the conversation was just between us. "I really appreciate what you're doing for my daughter. Things have been difficult and I've taken her to specialists of all kinds. None of them worked." He gave me a sharp smile. "You seem to be helping her though. She came home Friday telling me all about how her friends were talking to her again. Even if it is just a self confidence boost, she's happy. Thanks for that."

I'm not really one for deep conversations, but for a second I saw a guy finally relieved of some desperation. I gave him a solid nod, because I was pretty sure there was nothing I could say that wouldn't make the both of us feel like out of place idiots.

He closed the door and I walked to the street. I was later than normal and my maybe-friend the cabbie had left long ago. I wondered if he'd even bother to pick me up Thursday. The sky was dark and my muscle cramps had ventured from uncomfortable to several degrees above 'ouch'.

I groaned and headed off in a sprint towards the gas station. The place where I was attacked made me strangely self conscious. I reached the corner store, only to find it was closed and no one inside to call me a cab.

I muttered a curse and started walking towards Rosemont's shopping area. Hopefully there would be a Burger King open where I could convince someone to phone Murphy to pick me up.

I trudged threw the night, wrapping my arms around me as the pain escalated. I wanted to take my duster off to relieve some of the pressure, but it was nighttime in Chicago. If a human didn't get me a vampire would.

The thought of a human jumping me scared me more. I immediately became more conscious of my surroundings. I kept a look out in all directions and finally reached the shopping district. I saw a Burger King and ran the rest of the way.

Turns out, the dining area was closed, so I went around to the drive threw and asked very politely if they would phone Sergeant Murphy. The manager agreed and I waited in front of the establishment, careful to keep my back out of the light. My wings were withering in pain and I really didn't need for one of the workers to see the strange movement they caused under my duster.

That is when I felt it. I felt someone's eyes watching me from close by. I looked in the Burger King window, but all the employees were occupied. I turned my gaze to the surrounding parking lot. It was just like every other parking lot in the United States. Little yellow parking curbs stood out even in the night's blackness and were arranged by a grid of yellow and white lines. I was close to the turn-in from the highway, and short dark bushes lined the edges of the parking lot and turn in. A few illuminated lamp posts watched over the area. Well, they did until my nerves got the best of me and the lights above me exploded in a shower of glass. The lights closest to me in the closed down dining area shattered too. All the employees and the manager turned to look at me. They backed up away from the doors and I saw the manager reach for the telephone.

Was she calling the cops? Things seemed to be falling out of control: My wings twisted and cramped, I'd destroyed private property again and they had my name to make me pay for it, and worst of all I was sure there was somebody or something watching me. I anxiously looked around me and shook out my shield bracelet. I could still focus through the pain, and forced myself to do so. I raised an invisible shield hoping that Murphy would hurry up.

I stood there for fifteen minutes holding my shield around me and frantically searching back and forth. I heard a scuttling sound in the short bushes and dropped my shield to aim my fingers in their direction. I released the power in my force rings and one of the bushes was ripped right out of the ground and thrown devoid of leaves. No one was there. The rest of Burger King's lights flickered out of existence. The entire parking lot went dark.

I considered using my sight to see them, but before I could make a decision bullets hammered my shield bracelet. I pulled my shield in and focused it directly in front of me and tilted the shield somewhat downward to ricochet the bullets down into the cement. I dropped to one knee to minimize the area I had to extend my shield. I heard the quick clip of another magazine being slid into place, and the bullets started hitting again.

This guy was stupid, he wasn't planning on moving. He had a limited number of bullets, and when he ran out I was going to knock him out and have Murphy escort him to jail. Then an idea casually presented itself in the back of my mind. 'What if he's not being stupid? what if he's just a distraction?

I held my shield as bullets pounded against it, sweating from the effort of keeping it up so long in the first place, and turned to look over my shoulder. A small framed figure was behind me with an already extended hand full of chloroform. The cloth caught my mouth and the smaller framed figure pulled me in close to gain leverage. I was sure the figure was a she, not that it mattered. Something someone of her short stature never would have been able to do if the bullet storm hadn't forced me down on my knees.

I was torn between keeping my shield up and dealing with the chloroform gag around my mouth. The bullets kept coming so I continued to hold my shield. I tried not to breathe, but a little of the smell had gotten in when she first clamped the rag down. I used my free arm to try and elbow her in the ribs, and when that didn't work, I tried to twist backwards and pull her off of me. She held me tightly with her chloroform arm locking my biceps in place. I couldn't get any leverage.

I didn't want to drop my shield but I was going to need air soon. I figured if they were working together and using chloroform then they wanted me unharmed. If I dropped my shield the other guy might stop shooting. He was only a distraction. Either way I had to do something or it was going to end very badly on my part, and the shield wouldn't last much longer with all the energy I'd used.

I dropped the shield and with both hands free I went after the woman. This was the wrong course of action. I'd misjudged, because the shooter kept shooting.

I heard the gunshots, but I didn't feel the shots until a few seconds later. I'd thrown the woman off of me, and then screamed when I felt several burning spots. One in my thigh, another in my side, and one in my left arm.

I'd been shot. That bastard had shot me.

I aimed a blast of force where the shooter had been. I heard an 'umf' and it gave me a second of satisfaction.

I had to subdue my attackers. Presently I'd probably pass out, and if that happened, it was game over.

I saw the lights of Murphy's Saturn at the stoplight in front of the turn in, and I waved to it. If Murphy was here I wouldn't have to fight them. Then I remembered that all of the lights had been blown up, and she wouldn't have seen me. Heck, she wouldn't have seen the Burger King at all.

But I was a wizard, so I threw my hand into the air and called up an uncontrolled cone of flame. It illuminated the parking lot like the evening sun as it spiraled into the sky. Murphy saw me -and the mess around me- and broke a traffic law for me. Under different circumstances I would have been flattered.

I waved to her as the flame disappeared from the air. She turned on her blinkers to let me know she was there. Then the chloroform rag appeared in my vision. An older woman's hand shoved it over my mouth and nose and her other hand reached down my duster back to manhandle a wing, I gasped in surprise and pain. The chemical made me hazy at point blank, and it only got worse. Murphy hadn't been letting me know she was there, she'd been signaling me, trying to warn me.

I felt the woman lift me upwards and pull me backwards, the man had gotten up to help her, holding my wing tips and clutching his side. Murphy spun around the drive in, rolled down the window and pointed her weapon at them.

"Put him down!" At least, that is what I thought she said, I couldn't be sure through the blackened haze.

"You aren't going to shoot us! You'll have to hit him!" I hate it when the bad guy is right.

Murphy faltered and that was all it took. I don't know what happened, because the second I saw the desperation on her face the chloroform made my body numb and my mind black out.


	9. Chapter 9

I felt myself coming back to consciousness. It was a slow and heavy thing, but I managed to blink my eyes open at last. My mind was still fuzzy, but from what I could tell, I was in the back seat of a moving van and it was dark out. I was laying sprawled on my stomach, my hands close to my face, and my spell laden duster missing.

That disturbed me, and I groaned, trying to push myself up off the seat. My body was so heavy, and my dead weight wings didn't respond. I heard something shuffling, and I tried to look for them. It was only then that my eyesight adapted to the darkness and I was able to see my hands were bound to the seat with something. Whether it was duck-tape or a seat belt I couldn't figure out. Whatever the material, I was bound, and I struggled to free myself. It was pretty pathetic though because my body refused to respond and my headache was killing me.

I heard the shuffling again in the darkness, and I managed to see a woman approaching me from the front seat of the van. I couldn't make out anything other than her silhouette, which looked oddly familiar.

She approached and ran a boney hand through my hair. I fought harder, but my body only twitched. She removed her hand and stuck something, I presumed to be a needle, into the underside of my arm. Considering the position I was in, this seemed like a difficult thing to do.

She made coo-ing noises that I didn't approve of and rubbed one of her skeletal hands up and down my wings. It felt good and my head was fuzzy. As I nodded off again I couldn't help but think that the needle she'd stuck me with, had drugged me with something. I also couldn't help but notice how completely screwed I was.

When I woke the second time I opened my eyes to a nightmare. I was in a tiled eight foot by eight foot bathroom, incandescently lit. It looked like something out of a horror movie. There was a single industry-style sink screwed into the wall and a rusty shower head hung close by, with a metal ring encircling it. A shower curtain was clumsily ripped and one end hung from the ring, while the other pooled on the ground. The ground was dirty with mud, grime, and something that suspiciously resembled a mass of hair and blood.

I was in a porcelain bathtub, one of the old ones that had the lion paw legs. It was gross and dirty, but probably the cleanest thing in the nightmare room. My arms were draped over the front end of the tub and shackled to the porcelain lion's paws holding the tub. There was a needle IV stuck in my inner arm. My head rested between my arms on the tub's edge giving me an excellent view of the disgusting teal tiled floor. As for my long legs, they were curled up on the bottom of the tub. One of my captors had kindly laid a heavily used comforter down on the porcelain bottom. It didn't look sanitary but It was softer on my legs than the hard tub would be.

Parts of my jeans were ripped off and my shirt was gone. Bandages encased the bullet wounds I'd received. They were professionally treated, but looked to be a day or so old. Blood had seeped through and had crusted a stark brown on the bandages. Especially the one in my arm. With my shirt and duster gone, my wings laid free against my back. Like my hands, my ankles were shackled by silver ringlets, connected to chains that disappeared into the psudo-beeding and down the hole where the drain had been removed. I gave the chain a tug with my foot, and sure enough I found it attached to something outside.

Unless I could manage a finely tuned and directed flame to blowtorch my way out of the shackles, I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Without my foci that was a dream.

Now that I was wider awake, I looked around the nightmare room. I saw a stall over my left shoulder, which presumably had a toilet in it. There was a little metal table I hadn't seen by the doorway. I saw the gleam of some sort of instruments sitting on top of it, next to a bottle of rubbing alcohol. There was the crimson smell of blood in the air, and I figured it was probably mine. My wounds had been treated by someone, perhaps the metal table had something sharp I could slowly saw through my entrapments with.

I looked at the table, focused my mind, and began to draw in my will. At least, I tried to anyways. The metal rings around my wrists and ankles cut into my skin and clamped down on my magic. It hurt, but I'd been through worse this past week with my wings, and I plowed through the pain.

"Ventas! Ventas servitas!"

The lights flickered for a second, but didn't go out. The medical instruments flew off the metal table and scattered across the ground. They went in all sorts of directions. One sharp blade rolled my way a few inches from the bathtub's front right paw. It was so close.

I yanked the needle out of my arm and reeled in the line it was attached to. The IV stand slid a little closer to me, until finally it was in arms reach. I grabbed the pole, ripped the fluids bag off of it, and turned it upside down. The back end hit my wings and I bit my lip to keep any more sounds from getting out. I didn't want my kidnappers to know what I was doing. From my experience they take kidnappees escaping rather personally. I don't know why.

I positioned the IV pole and used the end of it to guide the scalpel closer to the foot of the tub. With my ankles chained I couldn't lean enough over the edge to grab the instrument. My wounds ached when I tried. Even with my long arms I couldn't reach. Which made me nervous. The chains at my feet had been loose enough to give me relatively comfortable movement, but not enough to reach over the edge. My kidnapper had done this before. And if that glob of hair and blood was any indication, he'd done this a lot.

I was a lot more frantic trying to get the scalpel. I strained past my anti-magic cuffs and reached with the IV stand. I had the clever idea of trying to encircle the handle with the IV stand's loop that kept the fluid latched on. My hands were shaking too hard and I couldn't get the scalpel. It was like watching kids play that claw machine at the supermarket. They kept putting money in the machine, and each time the claw would almost get the stuffed animal, but not quite.

I tried and retried. I never came close, I was shaking too much. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I doubted it was the bullet wounds, I'd had to deal with worse before. These stupid wings made me afraid, and I hadn't even gotten to ask the Doc about it. I couldn't even get one stupid scalpel that was right in front of me.

I put the pole down a little more violently than was strictly necessary and called up my will again. It hurt and the anti-magic cuffs dug at both the physical and non-physical parts of me, but I pushed beyond that again. Only this time it didn't work. I don't know what had changed, but it didn't work. The scalpel didn't move an inch. My head burst into a killer headache, the kind I got when I didn't insulate my spells with words.

I panted and sank down into the quilt lined bathtub. It stank, but it was darker down here. And my head didn't hurt as much. On some bizarre reflex one of my wings flapped and helped block the light from the nightmare bathroom.

I quieted down a bit and then I willed myself back up. My wings flared out once as I stretched to grab the pole again. I felt the cool metal in my hands and committed myself to getting that scalpel. I steadily angled the pole, and after what seemed like an eternity, something amazing happened. I hooked the scalpel at such an angle and slowly raised the pole over the tub. I pulled my feet in tight to my body, and prepared to shake the gleaming medical instrument loose.

That is when my plan fell apart and my resolve shattered.

Time slowed. I could hear my heart beating in heavy thumps. My salvation was a second from my grasp. The paint stripped wooden door opened on squeaky hinges. The doorway as dark and menacing as any monsters' mouth. A man walked out of the darkness. He was clean shaven with sharp small features. I'd met him before.

Abbott Young was in the doorway one minute, and the next he appeared in front of me and ripped the pole from my hands and flung it into the shower area. Two more rungs of the shower curtain tore and fell to the ground. The scalpel -my hope of salvation- flew violently from its balanced position on the IV pole and cut Abbott lightly on the arm. It continued through skin and clattered on the ground a few feet away.

I heard a furious scream. When my throat felt sore, I realized it had come from me. Abbott was close enough to grab, and my shackles were loose enough that I could reach him. I raked my fingers into his skin and clawed for his throat. This fucker had cost me my freedom from the nightmare room. He was going to pay for that.

Abbott was not a small man, but he was skinny and light enough that I could pull him down to my level. He fought, but I had the advantage of dead weight and desperation.

However, I'd made one critical mistake.

Two people had come into the nightmare room, not just Abbott. In my frustration, I hadn't even seen the second one. Until now.

While I ravenously went after Abbott determined to make him feel abject terror, someone had maneuvered behind my back and drilled their fingertips into the spot where my wings connected to my back. The skin was still soft and new there and my nerves lit up in a burning white fire. My whole body convulsed and my I couldn't focus my eyes which made what little I could see of the world blurry. I don't remember much, because whatever that second person did to me after, was clouded by my disorientation. I knew it was only a couple minutes at most, because when I woke up there was blood on the tub edge in front of me that hadn't been there before. There was a matching red spot on my head. Another obvious indicator was the fact that the Abbott and his little friend were still in the nightmare room. They seemed to be gathering the last of the medical instruments.

Everything was still fuzzy but I forced myself to see through it. Considering how many times I got bumped on the head doing my wizarding business, if I hadn't figured it out already, I'd probably be in a grave right now. Although, if the pile of blood and hair on the floor was any indicator, I'd probably be in a grave rather soon.

I blinked my eyes open and squinted against the light which seemed to have grown brighter. I didn't dare move my head. I knew from many past experiences that doing so would only give me a massive headache and possibly return me into unconsciousness yet again.

The smart thing would have been to keep my mouth shut and listen for clues as to the details of my nemeses' nefarious plot. But I've never been known for the ability to keep my mouth shut. Even more so when my life is on the line. Murphy once told me it is a suicidal tendency that by some twist of fate has actually allowed me to survive. I firmly believe in not fixing what isn't broke.

"Hey!" Their blurry silhouettes didn't move or acknowledge my existence. I tried again. "Hey, assholes." Still nothing. "Bonnie and Clyde!"

Abbott spoke, "It's awake."

"I'm aware fool." The second figure sounded familiar and I struggled to place it.

"It" I emphasized the 'it' in a very offended way, "-Can hear you."

"Go sterilize these in the sink. Be hasty. And clean the blood off your arm."

Seems no one cared for my input. A shame, really. "You know, this place isn't up to code, if any city health inspector saw this -well, let's just say you two would have to pay a hefty fine." My words might have come out a little slurred, but that is acceptable given a head wound.

I heard running water in the background as Abbott cleaned the collected mass of medical instruments. Then I heard multiple 'tings' as they were one by one dropped into a metal tin. The second figure walked steadily into my view. The image got clearer and clearer as she approached. And it was definitely a she. She was the same woman from the night before, and I recognized her from somewhere else too.

The short stature and boney frame came into view and I couldn't figure out why I couldn't place her before. Her face belonged to Mariam Young.

"What?" I stammered, "You?"

The hair raising spine tingle I'd felt when I first seen her came back at full force. 'First impressions Harry,' I told myself, 'There is a reason why our initial judgement of others hasn't been edited out over thousands of years of evolution'.

She made me feel strange and I sunk down into the tub as far away from her as possible. It wasn't easy, I couldn't be on my back with my wings -they would either snap or hurt a lot. I didn't care to figure out which. So I had to settle with getting as low as possible and as far back as possible.

If she even thought about sticking her bony-ass hand anywhere near me, I was going to do to her what I did to Abbott. Turns out she didn't have to. Apparently I'd done exactly as she wanted.

She grabbed my exposed wing from behind, gentler this time. And when I made a grab for her, she applied pressure on my back and pushed me forward to the front of the tub. She held my head down with her other hand. I couldn't move my arms because they were jammed between my head and the front of the tub.

"Hold still now. I want to see how far grown they are." Her voice was no longer sweet like it had been in the restaurant or at Jocelyn's house. Jocelyn!

It probably came out muffled because I was speaking directly into a cotton quilt filled porcelain tub bottom when I asked, "Jocelyn! I was helping her, why would she do this?"

This seemed to catch Mariam's attention, and she finally seemed to take notice of me. Her grip on my wings loosened. "Jocelyn?"

I had to keep her talking. If she was talking she wasn't hurting me. And for personal reasons I wanted to know why the girl I helped wanted to kill me. "I was trying to help her! Or was she faking that just to get to me?" I took a breath, it was a hard thing to do whilst being held down and smothered with quilts that reeked of blood. "What did I do to you? Destroy one evil sorcerer too many? Because seriously, I've never met you before the day in the restaurant. And is Jocelyn really your granddaughter? Or were you just making that up too?"

"No," Mariam replied. "She really is my great-granddaughter, and you won't be able to hurt her anymore."

"Excuse me?" I sneered insulted. "Hurt her anymore? I was trying to help her!"

"You, wretched creature tried to feed on her!" I imagined Mariam's wrinkled face contorting with anger and hate. "Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to watch your own flesh and blood become bait for an Outsider? She has nothing to do with our business and you attacked her." She shook her head to herself and laughed, I could feel both resonate through her body's contact with mine. Some of the tension and ferocity left her. "No, of course you wouldn't. Your kind don't understand concepts like love. All they can do is hate."

"What the-? You came to me for help! Mrs. Young, please, I don't know what you've been told but what you're doing is a mistake!" And who says I can't be diplomatic. Granted, when you're chained helpless and about to be killed in a crappy bathroom by a little old lady, it is a little easier than when you've got a blasting rod and the ability to smash monster face.

"Lies," she spat. Her fingers touched around the base of my wings. Her fingers weren't soft and warm like Murphy's and they didn't have the quick professional edge of Doc. Mariam's were cold and uncaring. They felt like they had every intention to hurt me.

I didn't like this feeling. Terror and Harry Dresden did not go together. They hadn't for a long time. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to remember when this pathetic behavior had started.

I felt her boney hands leave my wings. The hand around my neck stayed. I heard her shoes clap against the tile floor and move towards the head of the bathtub. She pulled her hand back quickly out of reach and stepped away in Abbott's direction.

I raised my head slowly and rolled the kinks out of my neck.

"Whatever Mariam thought I was, she believed it. I didn't think I'd be able to talk her out of it. But for now It looked like she wasn't going to kill me. But I had a deadline. When my wings fully came in, I'd probably dead.

The gears of my rational mind began turning.

"Feed it," Mariam instructed Abbott. "Clean it, and get it looking presentable. We can get more money if it is in good condition." She walked out, leaving Abbott to his task of dealing with me.

Money? The realization slammed into me like an incoming train. Hells bells, things just got worse. My kidnappers didn't want to disembowel me, they were going to sell me to someone, probably someone worse. If Mariam and Abbott were just the caretakers I didn't want to know what the buyer -buyers- would be like.

Mariam better hope I never got out of this mess, because shooting and kidnapping me made it personal. And what kind of villain sticks their victim in a bathtub? I mean, who does that?

I didn't realize I'd spoken out loud until Abbott answered me. "Mariam has been doing this a long time. She was around during the Great Depression you know? I think she picked it up there. She once told me back then porcelain tubs were commonplace among the wealthy in the late 19th century and were a relatively easy find during the depression era. Mariam has this saying she uses a lot around the new arrivals." New arrivals? Like me? "I've seen plenty of things escape shackles. I've yet to see something escape from a tub."

"That-" I began. "That makes absolutely no sense."

Abbott gave me a gentle smile. I'm guessing he was good cop in the good-cop-bad-cop routine. I just didn't know what that made me. The witness or the suspect? "Really? Think about it for a second. Earlier, if you were chained to the floor you would have been able to grab one of those sharp objects easily and saw your way loose. It would take a while, but it would be do-able." I didn't react. I didn't know if I was being tested. Hell, I still didn't know what was going on. "The walls of porcelain are tall and most monsters your size can't reach over them enough to touch the floor. The walls keep the beasts in the same spot and out of trouble. Have you ever seen how an crocodile is caught?" I shook my head 'no', confused as to where he was taking this. "Crocodiles are incredibly strong and fast. Catching them is hard, but holding them is relatively easy. You stick the crocodile in a narrow box. The walls of the box enclose it so tight that all that strength and power is useless if they don't have the leverage and momentum to use it. In a tightly enclosed area their strengths no longer work and escape is impossible."

"So," I drawled. "I'm in a crocodile box?"

"No, you're in a bathtub." I don't think he meant it to be as sarcastic as it sounded. He brought a styrofoam take out tin into my field of vision. "Here. Eat this. If you drop it or spill it you'll be sleeping in it."

"If I don't eat this," I retaliated, "I won't look pretty for your buyer. You won't be able to make that much money."

He smiled, all good-cop washed away for a brief second. "If you don't want to eat Mr. Dresden, that is fine with me. In the end, you pay the price. If you aren't taking in calories at this crucial time of development your body won't have the energy necessary to change and grow properly. You didn't think those wings grew by magic did you? I'm willing to bet you've upped your food intake or significantly cut your activity level. One or the other. You're growing wings are using a lot of your body's resources." His face became cold, almost a mirror image of Mariam's. "I wonder, if you didn't eat, would it hurt more at night? Or just take longer for the process to complete."

That thought chilled me. I made a grab for the take out. My arm that had been shot burned and it made my body feel jittery and shaky.

He pulled it out of reach.

Desperation flooded me. I didn't want to feel that pain. I'd take anything short of self destruction to ease that pain. Even though it was out of reach, I grabbed for it again. My arm stung some more, and out of the corner of my eye I saw more red seep out into the bandages.

Abbott tisked his tongue and looked down on me with condescending eyes. He thrust the take out into my outstretched hands. "Fucking animal," he said under his breath.

I ignored his comment and held the take out tightly. "Abbott, " I asked as he walked over to sit on the small table by the door. "Why are you doing this?"

He glared at me and he looked more menacing than I'd ever seen him. "Normally I don't talk to Mariam's catches." He took a breath and then spoke to me directly, "I'm just doing my job." He paused for a moment and then continued. "That's not all. I saw you, from the kitchen. You touched my daughter's hands and it did something to her."

"We were just working on control!" I protested.

"Lies, lies, lies," he roared, his composure snapping. "You did something to her! To my daughter! In my own house!"

I felt my heart speed up, and my wings flapped and moved to encase me protectively on reflex.

A strand of hair hung messily off Abbott's head. He seemed to notice his loss of control, and straightened his posture, his fingers moving to adjust his clothing. "There is one thing I want to get clear with you." His pencil line mouth moved fluidly over every word. "If it were up to me, I wouldn't be selling you to the highest bidder. I'd use that special ability your wings have. I'd take a knife, chop off a little bit of your wing, and give it to a practitioner create a charm for my daughter. It would block her cursed vision, and the irony of where it came from would not be lost on me." He paused, and looked straight at me. I had to avert my eyes to stop a soul gaze. "And then, I'd kill you in the most grotesque way possible."

We didn't move for a second.

"I'd destroy you, because you touched my daughter."


	10. Chapter 10

I ate my take out in silence. Abbott watched from his table-turned-chair near the door. He watched me with cold eyes, and I focused my gaze on nothing in particular. Whoever had brought me dinner had been nice enough to include a fork. So I made the extra effort not to spill.

I couldn't hate Abbott anymore. He was doing what he thought was right. He was trying to protect his daughter. When I thought about it, in his place, I'd probably do the exact same thing. I mean, hell, I got majority irrational when anyone so much as accused my brother of something. It usually resulted in me coming close to doing something stupid with a side order of Kaboom. Abbott though, he wasn't like me. Abbott had control in spades. I'd broken through that control earlier, but then again, I've been told I have a way with people. Besides, there is only so much a guy can take. I was just happy that Mariam was in charge, otherwise he'd probably do bad things to me.

I finished my food and closed the take out tin. I held it out in my outstretched hand.

Abbott pushed himself up and walked over to me. He grabbed the tin without ever taking his eyes off me. He moved backwards and put it down near the small table.

Abbott moved back towards me. He rolled up his sleeves and began to circle around the tub. I followed him with my eyes. When he was about to exit my field of vision, I quickly twisted my neck to turn my head the other way. I meant to recapture him in my field of vision, but he'd taken advantage of the second my head turned. I'd played right into his hand. He grabbed my wings and shoved me forward relatively gently just like Mariam had. When I tried to push back up, his fingers dug in firmly causing me to wince and force myself to relax.

I felt contact on my ankles and heard the clatter of chains clashing against one another. Then he unchained my wrist shackles from the ground. The chains trailing from my wrist stayed connected to my cuffs.

"Up now," Abbott commanded. "If you try anything stupid I'll squeeze tight. You won't escape. Nod if you understand."

I nodded.

"Good. We're going to the shower now."

I felt him tug my wings, and I followed his hand up. For someone who was twelve shades of pissed-off at me, he was surprisingly gentle.

On the way to the shower I tried to draw a little of my will in, a simple spell that would go simple and unnoticed. I hid my disappointment and grimace when the chained rings clamped down tightly on both my magic and my wrists. Magic was out of the question. Shit.

Abbott kept a light but tight hold on the base of my wings and eased me into the shower. "Turn the water on and remove the bloody bandages."

"You're going to watch me while I'm in the shower? I've got to admit, I haven't heard that one since my old girlfriend left me."

Abbott's hand tightened, and I shut my mouth and turned on the water. It was slightly warmer than I was use to, but not comfortably so. Abbott handed me shampoo and soap, and I cleaned myself to the best of my ability. Seeing as my arms were weighed down by shackles and my pants were now soaking wet, this was no easy task. I showered quick and as thoroughly as possible.

Even with Abbott holding me at an odd angle, my wings managed to get relatively wet and clean. I had just gotten the last of the shampoo washed out of my hair when I felt a tug on my wings.

"Enough. Turn the water off and step backwards slowly. Don't try to fake a slip and escape. The door is locked from the other side. Mariam won't open it unless she's absolutely sure it is me. And with her visions, tricking her would be quite an accomplishment."

"I wasn't planning on it." I hoped Abbott didn't see through my lie.

Abbott pulled me out of the rusty half assed shower and I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder. His arm gripping my wings was wet and quite a bit of water had soaked into his rolled up sleeves. Abbott led me around to the single bathroom stall, grabbed the shackles hanging from my wrists, and drew the chains through a hole in the stall wall. He pulled the chain tight so there was no slack and my wrists were pinned to the metal stall. I considered yanking hard, but the stall looked sturdy and I had absolutely no leverage.

Still holding the chain tightly, Abbott picked up something off the floor that I hadn't noticed. He opened the stall door and handed in a pair of dark boxers and a large pair of dark grey sweat pants. He also threw in a towel.

"Dry off, go to the bathroom, and change into the dry cloths." He let just enough slack in my chains to allow me room to do so.

I followed his orders without complaint.

The cloths were oddly comfortable. Which was a disturbing thought. When I was finished, Abbott led me back to the tub and chained me back up a lot more forcefully than necessary. He didn't have to work hard because nightfall had come. I could feel it in my bones and in the beginning aches of my muscles.

I heard the last shackle secure and then Abbott released his tight grip on my wings.

I lay there, curled at the bottom of the tub, trying to will myself to sleep before the pain became unbearable. Someone, probably Mariam had changed the bloody quilt at the bottom. I hadn't even heard them come in. The tub was large, but I was larger. Even curled up on quilts it was extremely uncomfortable.

I felt Abbott grab one of my arms and raise it to the tub's edge. I didn't bother to stop him. Even if I knocked him out, I didn't have the combination for the pad locks that ultimately held me, any means of escaping the nightmare room, or making it out of wherever I was before the pain came.

Without looking up, I felt him wrapping clean bandages around my arm and securing them in place. When he was done he dropped a extra long square of gauze and a new wrap of bandages into the tub. "Bandage the rest. The sheets aren't going to be changed again."

Hey, for a kidnapee I was being treated like royalty.

The night was awful. My muscles cramped and my wings extended and contracted in flapping motions until exhaustion. It was just as bad as I remembered and at times I wished I had some of Mariam's drugs that had knocked me out cold throughout the process like before.

Instead, I bit down hard and curled myself into a ball, wrapping my arms around myself and rocking back and forth.

Morning came and I slept through it. Nights had become exhausting. By the end of this I figured I'd have the potential to be an athlete. Sports spotters would pay good money for my endurance. I'd never have money troubles again.

Mariam Young was my first visitor. She scoffed and said something harshly to Abbott. I couldn't catch most of it, but it had something to do with me being unclean.

She moved quickly into the nightmare room and inspected my wings like she had the day before. She seemed unsatisfied and stalked away towards the doorframe. She whipped out a small cellphone with a cute charm on it. Disturbing. She chattered quickly on the phone in a language I didn't understand. Every now and then she'd cover the phone with her hand and whisper something to Abbott.

He nodded and eventually left the room.

"Okay," Mariam gasped quickly. She pushed a tiny button on her phone, and I assumed she hung up. I'd seen Murphy do something similar from a distance.

The door flew open, revealing Abbott holding tight to -something.

"No." My wings flapped furiously in tune with my skyrocketing heart rate. "You are not putting me in the same room as that thing!" I couldn't hide the tremble in my voice. "You can't!"

Abbott was practically choking the thing with a chain wrapped tightly around its neck. When I looked closer from over the porcelain edge I could see the chain was actually burning it. The thing thrashed and tried to snap at Abbott. The man held tight and brought it to the wall opposite of me.

"Stars and stones! Where did you even find a Hellhound?"

Abbott seemed to struggle with the creature for a second. It was giant and so very similar to my Godmother's pack.

"Look Abbott -" The man didn't look at me. He didn't even acknowledge me. I turned towards Mariam. "Mrs. Young!" Kidnapper or not, I hadn't been able to break myself of the habit I started a few weeks ago. "It will kill me if it gets loose!" The look on her face said she didn't really care. "If I die, I won't be worth anything. No money."

I was glancing around frantically between the two of them and the hellhound. "Please." The word hurt my tongue to say. I absolutely hate using it, especially around bullies. I hated being helpless. "Don't do this. Don't leave me in here with it."

Mariam seemed to have blown me off and left the nightmare room. Abbott had finished securing the creature to a metal loop that was part of the wall.

Even with the chain scorching its fae neck and burning its fur into odd soot colored smoke. Where the chain had dug in too deep, the skin had blistered and turned a bright raw red. Despite the obvious torment of its iron prison, the creature strained against its restraints and snapped savagely at Abbott as the man drew away.

"Abbott! Abbott!"

Abbott walked out the door and closed it behind him. I heard several locks snap one by one into place.

I turned my gaze back to the supernatural super dog across from me. It was staring right at me. Its dark eyes refusing to look away as they bored into mine. Spittle dabbled its muzzle and dripped in large globs from its hinged jaws and strong teeth. Its ears were forward and its posture was as threatening as any nuclear missile.

"Shit," I muttered to myself.

I sunk into the bathtub, my wings heavy set against my back. I never took the eyes off the hellhound, and it in turn never took its eyes off me.

We watched each other for hours. The creature didn't snarl or growl. It didn't have to and it knew it. Abbott came in during that block of time. I didn't acknowledge him. I was watching the hellhound. The creature however, saw Abbott and reacted immediately.

It turned in Abbott's direction and made a high whining hiss. The sound was unnatural, but didn't deter Abbott in the least. He opened his grocery bag. It was one of the fancy reusable ones normally found in classy organic stores until they'd become suddenly popular. Charity had a lot of them.

Abbot reached in and I saw him fumble with its contents from my lookout. Finally he removed what looked like a large bloody mass from the bag and threw it at the hellhound's paws. The creature pulled against the iron chains reaching for the meaty lump. Black smoke curled up from where the iron dug into its neck and dissipated a few feet above it in the air.

The beast managed to hook its teeth into the lump of meat and pull it back to a more comfortable position. Abbott stared at it with disgust for a few seconds before turning back to me. He reached back into the bag and pulled out another box of takeout.

I reached for it, careful to make myself look as non threatening as possible. He handed it to me, the distaste clear as day on his face. I didn't dare ask him how Jocelyn was doing. It would probably only set him off. If something I thought was a monster asked me how Murphy was doing. I'd probably take that as a threat.

I suppressed a chuckle and contemplated the wisdom of my words. I guess given enough time to do absolutely nothing, gave me time to actually think my way through things. Harry Dresden, arsonist to philosopher. Thomas would find that humorous.

I ate my takeout quickly. The last thing I needed was to finish last and have the hellhound eyeing me again. Abbott sat on the small table stand and watched silently.

I finished and Abbott collected the styrofoam tin. The hellhound hadn't finished the lump of meat so I took the opportunity to doze off for a few minutes. I knew with Abbott in the room, the creature's attention was focussed elsewhere and I'd get in a wink of sleep without having to worry if it would chew my head off.

I heard a high pitched hiss followed by a shrieking whine. It woke me up and I looked over the porcelain edge to see Abbott holding the hellhound's chains tightly against its neck while kicking the remains of snapped bone away from the creature. It fought to no avail, and as the iron chains cut in deeper it whined like a banshee.

Abbott repeated the same ritual as the night before, except the hellhound got sprayed with water instead of an actual shower.

It was shuddering and sopping wet, paws making slick bloop sounds as it slipped on the tile floor. I heard the sick snap of bone breaking followed by another whine.

I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. With a broken bone it would be much less likely to escape and eat me alive. I chanced a look over the edge of the tub to confirm my suspicions.

I reached behind my back and felt the spot at the base of my wings. It was warm and soft but there was something missing. I pulled my hand back and looked at my fingers. Only a few pieces of down stuck to them. I was use to a relatively large handful.

A chill zipped up my spine as a realization came over me. Doc had said I was close to the end. I'd been happy to just get rid of the pain. But now, the end meant something worse. They'd be able to sell me. My wings were practically fully developed which meant I wouldn't be safe for long.

I knew Murphy wouldn't give up on me. She'd probably blame herself and force her to work that much harder. Murphy would find me. She was my best friend. And no matter what Bob said, Thomas would probably be raising hell to find me too.

The thought of Murphy and Thomas coming to the rescue elated me and my wings weakly flapped, beating down the air.

No Harry, I told myself. You shouldn't let them get caught in this. You need to man up and bust yourself out.

"How?" I asked myself, not bothering to care who was listening.

The hellhound, the old woman, magic.

"That's ridiculous. I'm not crazy. Besides, magic is out of the question. The manacles prevent that."

You used it before. Did you not?

I thought about that for a second. I had used magic before with the cuffs on. So what was preventing me now?

That is the question, isn't it? I mused to myself.

I stared hard at my shackled wrists for a moment. Eventually I shook my head and lay down to sleep. I figured passing out before the pain came would be preferable to another agony of torment.


	11. Chapter 11

I woke up to old bloodstained quilts and the quiet clack of claws on tile. I roused myself and when I was conscious enough I froze.

I was terrified.

I'd slept through the night -for the first time in weeks. There was no pain in my muscles, just a dull throbbing. Somewhere at the back of my mind I realized they'd finished growing. Soon Mariam would come in to inspect them, and find myself in top selling condition. I didn't expect the pain to stop abruptly like it had. I thought I'd have a little more time to figure things out.

Escape Harry, I told myself. If you were planning to escape, now would be a great time.

I looked around at my surroundings hoping to find some means of escape. There was none. So that left my magic.

I tried to focus on the task ahead of me, and not panic over little details like the anti-magic cuffs on my ankles and wrists. I'd never been one for subtlety or the more delicate areas of the art which made my current situation a little more than difficult. If I used fire to melt threw chain and force to blow the soft hot metal apart I'd probably end up burning myself pretty severely. If only I was chained to a wall. I could just send a wave of force to blow out the wall around where the chains connected. If only I wasn't in the stupid bathtub. That is when I got the idea.

The bathtub.

I'd heard stories from Molly about people surviving all sorts of disasters in a bathtub. Bombs, explosions, earthquakes. I guess they were heavily fire resistant and were sturdy enough to take a beating. I looked at my feet. The shackling chain linked my ankles and then disappeared down the drain. I twisted like a pretzel, pulling my chained wrists as close to the other side of the tub as was humanly possible. I cringed when my sensitive wings got caught between my back and the squeaky bathtub wall. Somehow I managed to twist enough to see over the foot end of the tub. The chain reappeared from underneath and hooked into an iron pike jutting out of the tile floor.

Such a simple entrapment. And from my position, one that could not be removed by strength alone.

But I didn't need strength. I had magic. I knew the cuffs restricted it, but I also knew I'd been able to use it before. I thought back to when I'd been able to use it. I'd felt confident, determined, pissed beyond pain, and I'd used a lot more will than necessary.

I calmed my breathing, focused, and drew in my will. A lot of it. Quickly and sharply before I could register the pain I extended my will towards the chain on the outside of the tub and spat a word.

"Fuego."

I threw my body into the tub and pulled my wings in tightly against me. The metal rings bit into my skin and clamped down like a wild bear chewing on my wrist. Anticipating this, I bit into the dirty quilt to muffle my scream. Hells bells it hurt.

And then I learned the difference between porcelain and cast iron bathtubs.

The fire I'd conjured, but hadn't bothered to tame, roared an angry red five foot cone over the metal chains. I couldn't see them melt and weaken, but I did feel it when my taut chain loosely fell free. Though, the clatter of chain on tile was drowned out by the loud cracking that reverberated through the nightmare room. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the foot end of the tub turn an angry hot color, before the final crack. Something exploded and I felt many tiny pains erupt over my wings and lower legs. I inhaled something filled with dust, even through the dirty quilt. I coughed and sputtered trying to get it out.

I squinted my eyes open. My wings fell on either side of me. I tried to flex them and cringed when I felt them sore like my calves after running up several flights of stairs. They twitched a little. Blood, bright and redder than I'd ever seen it, oozed from many cuts all over my wings. Some titanium white splinters and chips of porcelain remained imbedded in the wounds. I felt a few scratches on my limbs and back, but mostly my wings had taken most of the beating.

The back end of the bathtub was blackened and part of it was gone. Pieces lay scattered in all sizes across the tile floor. And the chain was melted in several areas.

In elation I pushed through the pain and managed to move my bleeding wings behind me. I didn't bother to try and flex them to position them a certain way. I just left them there, dangling off my back and lying in sharp shards of porcelain behind me. I stood up and out of the bathtub, stretching quickly and thoroughly to get out all the kinks. I saw the hellhound out of the corner of my eye. It was pressed back against the wall, heavily favoring one of its feet versus the other. It looked warily at me.

I stood over the place where the chains dangling from my wrists shackled into the floor. I'm incredibly tall and I was able to use that to my advantage. I wrapped the chains around my wrists a few times and grabbed them in my palm like an ACE bandage. I stood directly over where the shackles met the wall, bending forward a little to keep the chains slack, and dug my heels into the tile. Keeping my knees slightly bent I tightened my hold on the chains and pulled backwards and up at an angle. I leaned back like I was sitting in an easy chair, and my weight and leverage bent the metal of the chain linking my shackles to the ground. Slowly but surely it bent and opened at the metal seam. When it was big enough, I bent down to unhook my shackles from the open chain. The other side took a little longer but I managed to get it freed too. Surprisingly, the lock Abbott had on it didn't break before the chains.

With the special cuffs on, I didn't know how long my magic would last me, but I hoped long enough. I stood in front of the door and extended my hand. I more will than was strictly necessary and directed it in a straight blast of force.

"Forzare."

The door blew outwards, without as much dramatic effect as I would have preferred. The flicker of lights shorting out did boost my ego though.

My wrists stung from the bite of the special cuffs and I could see pink raw skin inflamed beneath the metal ringlets. It was a simple after effect of the cuffs, which were getting easier to deal with the more I used magic. These little guys had nothing on the Thorn Manacles I'd had to wiggle my way out of before.

As I walked through the doorway, I sensed movement to my right. I brought up a shield and couldn't help but notice it was taking a lot more effort to hold it up. Something struck it lightly, but was deflected. My wings dragged behind me picking up shards of porcelain along the way. It was basically like walking on glass and sharp rocks. Considering I had three bullet wounds to deal with, needless to say it wasn't fun.

I heard Abbott shout something, but I didn't bother to pay attention to what it was. I had more important things to do, like escaping.

I grabbed my mother's necklace from around my throat and held the tiny pentagram up between my fingers. I used even more effort and will to call light to it. I wasn't particularly concerned about signaling my location to anyone in the room. They already knew exactly where I was.

I looked around and thought I saw Mariam's furious face darting about. More small projectiles hit my shield, and I diverted even more energy to keep it up. I saw the frame of a door and ran towards it, grabbing at it and pulling it open.

I closed the door behind me and dropped my shield. Whatever they were hitting me with, it wasn't bullets. I threw the first thing I could find in its way. It might have been a table or a chair, I didn't really care.

I held up my wizard's light and quickly looked around my current room. My magic must have took out more than I initially realized. I spotted an odd door frame that looked oddly decayed and ran towards it.

It opened onto the service walkway for the sewer system. From the looks of it, this portion had been out of use for a while. The smell was awful.

It looked like Abbott and Mariam had brought me to Undertown. Luckily for me it wasn't as bad as some of the locations I'd been in. In fact, it was fairly tame. I recognized the place as a sewer system and if I followed it, I could probably find a manhole. At my height, I'd be able to reach.

I broke off in a run down the service sidewalk and I distantly heard someone bust through the door I'd blocked. The service sidewalk ended, but that didn't stop me. I kept running through the gunk lining the bottom. I didn't have any shoes, and I just knew some gross things managed to cut me. The gunk splashed up on my wings and coated the tips. It made them heavy and harder to move, but I kept running.

From the direction I came, I heard Mariam shout something. My wounded thigh throbbed, but I ran harder; my eyes searching frantically for a manhole.

I heard them closer now. I felt a small pinch in my back. Then two more in my wings. I spotted the first man hole and smile spread across my face.

Being as tall as I am, reaching it was less of an issue than it normally would be for normal people. Being a wizard didn't hurt.

"Forzare" I screamed, knowing full well Abbott already knew my location. I extended my will upward and gave the blast more juice than was necessary to counter the anti-magic cuffs. The top of the manhole flew off, and I thought I could hear a distant shout of surprise.

The second blast propelled my jump enough that my fingers could wrap around the top and haul myself up. It was by far the most awful pull up I have ever done in my life.

I hauled myself up, getting my head above the hole, looking onto the sidewalk, and my elbows scraping against cement.

The bright sun in the sky blinded me after adjusting to the dark and dim for so long, and I squinted and wormed myself upwards. The wings were a tough fit and were extremely heavy.

I was feeling dizzy, and I don't remember if it was my grip slipping or someone pulling down hard on my dangling legs. All I know was that one minute I was escaping, and the next I was in a small dark cage. My body was curled up tight to fit, with my wings pressing up uncomfortably against the bars. My wrists were tightly chained to a metal bar and upon twitching my feet, I discovered my ankles were too. Something was fixed to my neck and a chain led from it and wrapped around another metal pole. I was so cramped and constrained, I couldn't move.

In a haze, I looked around and saw Abbott removing sharp needles from my back and wings. I was so constrained in there, that my body felt it had to contort itself to fit, and my feather-like wings pressed up puffed in dark brown tufts between the bars.

I was back in the nightmare room. My body shook and I might have thrown up. Stress can do that to a person.

The broken bathtub remained. I could see it out of the corner of my eye. The broken pieces, though, were swept and gone.

It was hard to see anything else, because the front end of the cage had been situated against a corner wall under the industrial sink. The chains prevented me from moving much at all.

When Abbott noticed I was awake, to ease his sick satisfaction, he whispered, "The auction is in three days. Expect visitors."

I kept control of myself until I heard the door close behind him. Only then did I allow my body to shake. I gasped at air with short panicked breaths, and curled into myself even tighter.

I don't remember much after that. Abbott fed me and washed me -the way he had with the hellhound. It seemed I'd lost my shower privileges.

I sat in the cage the whole time, like a prisoner awaiting death row. Finally my turn came and I didn't even get a decent last meal.

Mariam and Abbott came in three days later and took me out of the nightmare room. I glared at them the whole time.


	12. Chapter 12

A spotlight of sorts shone down upon me, showering me in a circle of light. I ducked my head and sheltered my eyes against its bright flare. I blinked and tried to adjust. My arms were still bound, as were my ankles and neck. The chains leading off in either direction provided little slack, and held me in place.

I heard voices mumbling distantly. I doubted they were really that far away though. Mariam and Abbott seemed to have connections to the supernatural world. They were resourceful and good at their job too. I was betting it was some sort of spell or veil geared in a more auditory direction. I focused on being able to see again. Eventually I was able to look around through squinted eyes.

I couldn't see anything beyond the circle of light. The edges of the circle pressed close to me, but with my bindings I could not move out of it. There was just blackness beyond the bright edges. Every so often I'd see a flicker of clothing or a figure's shoulder come into the barrier of light, only to quickly disappear again.

Then Mariam came into the circle. Her entire figure looked bleached from the bright light. She leaned down, grabbed my jaw before speaking in some sort of language. I'm not sure which. Without Lash, instant presto translations were beyond me.

My body ached from being cramped in a cage for three days, so when Mariam was done showing me off to the supernatural fortune 500 club, I stretched in place. It wasn't a large gesture stretch. More like, I straightened my arms and legs in an inconspicuous way. I'm sure it was passed off as nervous twitches. My sore muscles burned but in a good way. It felt good to get the blood pumping again, and after a few in place stretches and flaps of my wings I immediately felt more aware and awake.

Mariam didn't stop me either. My face turned red as I realized, I'd played right into her hand. I'd shown the buyers the product, without even having to be poked and prodded to do so.

A while after I was finished, a hand shot out behind me, and manhandled the chain connecting to my neck. I choked a bit in surprise, and tried to lash out at the person shadowing me who'd attacked me. They held me steady though and the other shackles kept me from moving much at all. My retaliation came out little more than a twitchy jerk.

A regular warm human hand -not some sort of tentacle monster- gently started touching my wings. I held still while they extended them and checked the range of motion. There was a lot of touching that I didn't approve of, 'violation of bounderies' was an understatement. I heard an inquisitive sigh and the hands released me. With my neck and wings released, I shot a glance over my shoulder. The figure had already disappeared behind the ring of light.

After the first one, all the others, hidden in the darkness, decided to have a turn. The mumbled things to one another in low voices. Mainly questions directed at Mariam, who answered. I tried to Listen, but with all the hands and distractions I couldn't focus all of my attention on hearing. I counted about four to six pairs of hands total. Not all of them were human. Great. That meant four to six people, or not-people, I was going to have to hunt down and kill horribly once I managed to escape whatever fucker decided to purchase me.

Mariam's voice rang out and the buyers stepped back into the shadows. When their hands left, my wings felt ruffled and uncomfortable, like hair smoothed out the wrong way. I itched to straighten the feather-like appendages back down, but my hands were tied. I gave a few abortive flaps, hoping that everything would hopefully just fall back into place. No such luck.

The uncomfortable itching grew, and I couldn't stop my wings from flapping any more. At the corner of my consciousness I heard Mariam tell me sternly to stop. I tried, but it was so uncomfortable that spasms wracked my wings. I must have looked ridiculous.

Mariam's stern voice turned surprised for a second, and then I felt the warm human hand again. He -I'm sure it was a he- managed to get behind my erratic wings without being hit. His warm fingers gently stroked them and carefully straightened everything out. The uncomfortable feeling faded, leaving me quivering from the after effects of what I'd felt before.

I was finally able to Listen, and I heard Mariam suppressing her anger and telling the man not to touch the merchandise without permission. If the man cared, his voice didn't show it. It sounded so familiar, and I immediately cursed myself for not being able to place it.

They talked back and forth for a while. I counted four voices excluding Mariam's. The man who'd helped me didn't join the conversation.

"Do you know what it is a descendent of?" One voice asked.

"I'm not a specialist. I just catch them. Although, experience tells me that it is from the outside or the far reaches of the Nevernever. "

"Outside," another voice stated as fact. "Definitely from the Outside. Although it seems the offspring grew up entirely in the mortal realm."

"Mmm... And partially human. It may have free will. That could be problematic."

"Rumor has it, the mother was a black witch. Bad breeding may make it undesirable."

"True, true. Mistress Young, perhaps the price you're asking for it, is a bit too high. Even for the organization's standards."

"It," I interrupted, my mouth going on autopilot, "Can hear you."

I heard the man who'd helped me give an amused grunt. For whatever reason that made me really confused. 'Grunts' seemed to low class for the familiar voice.

"And it," I continued, my mouth unchecked. "Does not like you calling it 'it'."

I felt a jerk on my chain that caused me to sputter and cough. 'Shut up'. Message received.

"Abbott," Mariam called across the room. "Take it back to its cage. I'll finish up here."

I heard the rustle of chains against the floor and I figured Abbott was going to take me out of here. Good. I didn't like the idea of being paraded around like someone's show dog. Abbott started to pull me away into the darkness outside the circle.

Someone addressed Abbott, "Be careful, I don't want it hurt."

Then someone replied. Someone who hadn't spoken at all during the entire exchange. "Don't bother. After I purchase it, it will be as good as dead anyways." It was a voice I recognized anywhere. And it was a voice that crushed whatever I had left. My brother, Thomas.

A whine escaped my lips, my head spun - then froze, and my knees fell out below me. I couldn't see and I couldn't think.

Up until now, I'd been denying Bob's warning. Or dismissing Thomas' behavior as a phase. I mean, most people would be sickened by the thought of a person sprouting wings. That kind of stuff only happens to monsters. I considered the possibility on the way to Jocelyn's house, but I never actually believed it.

I tried to tell myself that it was all just an act. He was secretly planning to rescue me. As a White Court Vampire, Thomas could act like no other. It was the reason he'd made it this far. But the way he said those words, the complete apathy he said them with.

I'd been abandoned. Again. My mother had left me when I was born. My father, not long after. My foster family, Susan, and others over the years. But I'd never thought Thomas would.

So I sat slumped against the ground for a while, my breathing steadying. After a few moments I got up and allowed myself to be led by Abbott. Not that he needed me to comply in order to make me move. Abandonment and betrayal were nothing new. I thought I'd gotten over it before. I guess I hadn't. I guess it didn't matter anymore.

I thought back to what Doc had said. Something he'd mentioned in passing. That I'd inherited this curse from my father's side. I'd asked why he didn't have wings too. I figured out one reason in my many hours in the nightmare room. After hearing my brother say those words I learned the second. Either someone had cut my dad's wings off, or else he'd done it to himself in order to gain back some normalcy. To prevent whatever friends he had, from turning against him.

I missed Murphy. I missed my cat, my dog, and my home. I missed the feeling of having a brother who'd point a shotgun in a fairy's face to make a statement for me. And just like that, I was back in the cage, quiet, and facing the wall. Alone with my thoughts.

I didn't hear Abbott leave. I didn't hear the hellhound growl or snap. I didn't hear anything at all, except a ringing that made my mind buzz and tingle.

The silence lasted for a metaphorical forever. My thoughts led in circles, and eventually I stopped thinking altogether.

Whether it was hours or days, I couldn't tell. There were none of the usual markers. Abbott didn't even come in to feed me or the hellhound. Mariam opened the replacement-door and a hooded figure followed her in. I noticed their approach out of the corner of my eye.

It was one of the buyers. I turned my head and was able to see the buyer somewhat for the first time. The robe clung to the buyer's figure. It revealed a form that while human-esc, was too disproportionate to truly be human. The buyer's hands hung too low, almost to what I assumed to be it's knees. The robe hid its face, but something about it gave me the feeling that something was moving; like worms where skin should be. The figure was skinny, especially around the waist.

I turned in place the best I could to get a better angle. The figure leaned down to Mariam's ear and I thought I heard a wet clack of a slick tongue against teeth followed by a hiss of words in some language.

The figure withdrew its hooded head away from the curve of Mariam's neck. Mariam's eyes hardened and she nodded.

Even with all the energy drained out of me, my body still felt a flicker of nauseous fear. I suppressed a shudder as the figure straightened and turned towards me.

So this was my buyer. From what my captors had told me, it seemed whatever plans he had for me could be neatly filed under the category of 'not good'. During my waking hours in the nightmare room I'd had plenty of time to mull over my future -or as Mariam implied- my lack thereof. I'd had plenty of times to think up scenario after scenario. By some sick twist of fate, I'd been unable to imagine a good outcome.

The figure was in front of me, its slim frame squatting down to my level.

I eyed it cautiously. I couldn't see a face -or anything for that matter- under its hood. I glared harder. And when I thought I saw something squiggle in the darkness where its face should have been, I managed to keep my poker face. It grabbed one of the cage bars with a sickly pallid hand. The long fingers seemed too hook into boney claws. I was too cramped and confined to do the buyer the courtesy of removing his hand. I saw a flash of sharp white shark teeth, and I figured, the buyer knew this as well.

"I've been looking everywhere for something like you." The buyer's words sounded pleased and satisfied.

It stuck its finger in, like a kid at the zoo, and rubbed the back of its index finger up and down the base of my wings. For a while, I'd fallen asleep when Murphy did that, but not anymore. Definitely not here. Despite being so close, the pearly white shark teeth were all I could see in the hooded blackness. That shark grin grew wider and it made some sort of cooing noise.

What. The. Fuck.

I growled and shook his hand off of me. "Stay away," I snarled, my body shaking the cage I was in. "Hells bells, I'm not your pet you wormy."

I tend to nickname scary things when I'm frightened or angry. It is a habit.

Its hand was withdrawn and gripped the bar. It seemed to be content with possessively watching me, intently.

I felt anger flood through me. I tapped that anger and began gathering my will. "I don't care who you are, you don't do that kind of creepy shit to people." I felt the hot energy gathered around my hands. My wrists radiated hot pain as the antimagic cuffs clamped down. I was past the point of not caring. Sufficiently creepy things can do that to people. And with a hellhound as my witness I was going to burn this monster down where he stood, even if it killed me.

My body hurt from all the magic raging through me and subsequently being drained and clamped by the cuffs. But it didn't compare to the pounding in my head.

I rarely make eye contact, but I focussed my gaze in the gaping black hole, right above where I thought the monster's eyes should be.

I growled out a spell, and the words scraped the back of my throat. It came out sounding like nothing a human mouth should be able to make.

Where the creature's hands gripped the bars, the metal lit up a red molten color hot and bright. It released the bars a second before they burst into hot liquid metal. A few read drops splattered and burned holes against its dark robes. I meant to set him on fire, but considering my luck so far, blowing up lava wasn't that bad.

The creature clicked its tongue against its teeth and sucked in a breath. It turned towards Mariam and spoke in slightly accented english. "Ohhh," It purred. "It can work magic. That is unusual."

"I told you I was more than generous with the lowest bid price. Pay me, and the animal is yours for the taking." Her eyes stared off into a distance temporarily. "On behalf of my employers, I'd like to thank you for your business."

Great. Mariam had 'employers'. Murphy would take away my PI license if she knew this many baddies evaded my detecting in the greater Chicago area.

The hooded creature nodded and rose, whilst never taking its eyes off of me. "Oh, I have such plans for you."

I was panting with exertion. I looked down at my wrists. The encircling cuffs were a dull red, and burned against my battered skin. I saw cracks fracturing the previously smooth metal. It looked weak. It looked breakable.

The buyer discussed something with Mariam. I heard her make a call on her cellphone -how she got reception underground was beyond me- and she mentioned something about a wire transfer payment.

Without looking too obvious I tested the cuffs' strength. I pulled and tugged at them, outside of my attackers view. To no avail. I couldn't break them with my strength alone, but I figured if I smashed them against something hard, I'd have a chance.

I made sure to keep an eye on the buyer. I didn't want the creature to figure out what I was up to. I figured any punishment he dished out, wouldn't be as simple as a slap on the wrist.

The buyer took notice of me, and I stopped tugging at the cuffs. Mariam left the creature's side and strode over to the door. She knocked a rhythm on its frame and I saw Abbott open it for her. She muttered something to him and he nodded. He turned to the side to let her walk past, and closed the door behind him.

Abbott unlocked the cage door behind me. He grabbed the base of my wings, and pretty much pulled me out of the cramped space. Abbott turned me around to face the buyer. He had to do a bit of tugging, because I'm fairly large and my muscles hadn't been used in an indefinite amount of time. My legs felt weak and my headache was not helping.

The buyer pointed to my burned and bloodied wrists. I stiffened.

I looked back down at my wrists, and barely restrained myself from letting out a sigh of relief. My wrists looked absolutely a mess. They were raw, cut into, and bloody. Because of this, the cuffs were coated in thick red. Abbott and the buyer didn't know they were breaking.

"Oh, that. It hasn't been very cooperative and is pretty disobedient. The cuffs keep it from using magic. They react according to how much power the wearer is trying to channel." Abbott looked up at the buyer. "You can train it if you like, but I've heard it is much easier just to use mind magic."

I needed a distraction. Something that would give me the seconds I needed to smash the cuffs against the hard tile floor. I figured if I swung hard enough and fast enough into the ground, they'd break. My arms and legs still felt like goo, but I was sure I could pull it off. The thought of burning the buyer alive was a great motivator. Abbott, I was holding out on, if only because he had a daughter who didn't really deserve to loose her dad. Had Jocelyn not been a factor, I might have considered letting the hellhound eat him.

I eyed the only possible distraction in the room. The hellhound. Its eyes were locked on Abbott. The man hadn't seemed to notice yet.

"This is Harry," Abbott began, as he unhooked the metal collar fitted around my neck and the connecting chain. Complements of my escape attempt, I'd been forced to wear it. I was a bit confused as to what exactly was happening at this point. Usually Abbott refrained from calling me by my name. "It responds to that name. Be careful, this one is slippery as a snake. Don't give it any opportunity of freedom. Feed it like you do a regular human servitor, maybe a little more. Basic upkeep is pretty easy."

Hells bells, this wasn't PetCo. And I was sure as hell, I was nobody's pet.

Before I could go back to listening, Abbott had already wrapped up his how-to-feed-your-new-seamonkey speech.

I felt sharp nails against my scalp, as the buyer's creepy claw like hand rand through my hair, cupped the back of my head, and pulled me towards him.

My legs tingled and gave out under me, but the buyer didn't even wait for me to get up again. The creature just kept dragging me. Eventually I was able to get my feet under me before we reached the nightmare room's door.

"Hey," I growled. I planted my feet firmly on the ground and pulled away from the buyer. I think a few strands of hair got pulled out from their roots, which, for a wizard is a whole lot less petty than it seems. My wings flared outwards and beat the air, helping to give me a little more leverage against the creature. "Hey! Worm-face!"

It turned towards me. And studied me for a second, before grabbing my head and throwing it downwards towards the tile floor.

Perfectly according to plan. Really. I kid you not.

Really, it couldn't have worked out better. The creature clearly intended to bash my skull against the tile and drag me back to its hidey-hole. I doubted my words really had any effect on the buyer, most supernatural baddies were extremely strong, and if it wanted to turn my brain to mush then it probably could. Since it refrained from splitting my head like a Harry shaped omelette, I figured it was probably just a little annoyed.

The force of the throw wasn't enough to break me, but it was just enough to break the cuffs.

I'd flung my fists down first, and the cuffs had snapped like chalk against the tile floor.

I pushed myself up quickly, a trembling pain and incessant tingling emitting up my upper arm. I'd hit the bone pretty hard. If I had to guess, hitting the floor most likely fractured something. I gathered myself to a kneeling position, and pulled my arms in tight against me. I didn't want the creature to notice. Was a little bit of discretion too much to ask for?

Apparently it was.

The buyer noticed, and sneered, showing all its shark teeth. Stars, there were a lot of them. It hissed a syllable in a strange language. Its clawed hand reached for my head again. I stumbled backwards just out of reach.

I also tripped over the hellhound.

The hellhound didn't appreciate being tripped over, even if it was by its temporary roommate. In my attempt to scramble up to my feet, my foot slipped and I accidentally kicked its injured leg. It yelped, and then let out a very unpleasant sound. The dog's jaws widened showing me rows of serrated teeth. Spit dripped from its gaping chomps, and its eyes settled squarely on me.

I couldn't get up. I'd tripped and fallen on my wings, and like a turtle, I couldn't seem to get my bearings together. The hellish dog had its weight on me. I was sure this was the end. I'd had the perfect opportunity to wipe the metaphorical floor with my kidnappers, only to throw it away because I couldn't keep my balance.

Then the hellhound saw Abbott.

I wasn't thinking about Jocelyn when I did it. I was thinking selfishly about me. I know that everyone dies eventually, but stars, I knew I did NOT want to die there. If I was going to die, I was going to go out with a bang. There was going to be fire and explosions. It was going to be a bloody-fest, and not in some po-dunk dungeon with a ridiculously half incinerated bathtub.

I basically spit the spell through my lips. "Forzare."

A wave of force pushed against the hellhound's chains and snapped them from their hinges. It wasn't a controlled blast, like the kind I could do with my staff. The hellhound leapt at Abbott. It didn't even bother shake off the iron shackles that burned through its pelt. It went straight for Abbott's throat. I saw its extra large doggy teeth press into Abbott's neck. The skin dimpled and then went lax in a spray of red blood. Some of it hit me in the face. Abbott's hands were raised defensively, and even after the bite, he tried to grab at the dog's dark fur. The hellhound followed him down to the ground. The combined weight of the two sending a reverberating thump through the ground when they hit it.

I didn't bother to see how the hellhound tore out Jocelyn's father's throat. At the moment I had my own problems to worry about. I turned quickly towards the buyer, and saw him reaching for me.

With the hellhound gone I managed to roll myself off to the side. I felt my wings crunch underneath my weight, but it was nothing compared to what I'd been through.

"Forzare," I screamed.

The wave of force was huge and as uncontrolled as the first, and sent the buyer plowing into the opposite wall. The creature struck the wall and fell into a crumpled heap on the floor.

I pushed myself up as quickly as I could manage, and hobbled over to him. My wings dragged across the ground behind me. I stood just outside of its reach and squatted down to its level.

I mumbled a word of power, and a little ball of sunshine spiraled into existence within the palm of my hand. I couldn't think of any witty words to mark the occasion, instead I willed the flame towards its chest. Flame erupted on the creatures robes and moved upwards like a liquid serpent climbing upwards. The fire engulfed the creature and I hear someone murmuring "Burn burn, burn." in a slightly insane voice. I realize seconds later that it was me.

I shook the notion from my head and turned my head to see how the hellhound was fairing. I didn't get the chance because something slithered around my throat and pulled me upwards and off my feet. I couldn't get any air in.

"Think your clever, little monster?" A raspy voice hissed in my ear. "I do not fall for such juvenile displays of strength."

I grabbed desperately at my attacker, and tried to pull him from my throat. I managed to twist my head around enough to spot my attacker out of the corner of my eye. It was the buyer. The buyer I'd just burned seconds before.

I felt my eyes widen even as my vision started to go dark.

"We will go home," It said in my ear, "And you will behave."

There was a loud pop, and I felt the arm around my neck loosen. I choked on air, and gasped in, only to fall to the floor in a coughing fit. My mind was clouded, and there was a ringing in my ears. On all fours I crawled over until I felt a wall. I leaned my head on it and tried to take deep breaths.

I heard several more pops, and the buyer didn't try and choke me again. From what I could tell, I was either still barely awake or dreaming.

Eventually my breathing grew a little more steady, only to speed up again when I saw a a blonde blur flash into my vision. The blurry figure came closer, and I numbly tried to push it away.

I felt the blur grasp my biceps and run its hands up and down my arms. "Shhh, Shhh, Shhh." I didn't hear the soft shushing until I'd calmed down a bit. The rubbing on my arms became a little more relaxing. I squinted my eyes and focused on the figure. Blonde hair, blue eyes, cute features. Finally I managed to choke out, "Murph."

"Hey," she said in an almost whisper. "Hey, Harry. It is okay now."

She wrapped me in a hug, and I was sure it was the best feeling I'd ever felt in my life.

I remember looking over her shoulder and seeing the hellhound backed into a corner by three large wolves, Abbott's body in pieces, and the robed buyer riddled with holes and lying in a pool of crimson. There were a few people I didn't recognize -or maybe I did, but my mind was just too rattled to tell.

I remember Murphy rocking me back and forth, rubbing my back, and whispering warm things in my ear.

I didn't want to, but I nodded off, my head nestled in the groove of her neck.

I don't know how long I was out for, but when I woke up, I was in my own bed, and Murphy was right beside me. She hadn't left my side.


	13. Chapter 13

I blinked my eyes slowly open. My thoughts were fuzzy, and I drifted in and out of consciousness a few times. Finally, I settled on waking up.

I could feel tiny warm fingers running through my wings and massaging my scalp. When my eyes opened, I saw Murphy.

She had bags under her eyes, but when she saw me wake, her expression brightened and she gave me a quirky smile.

"Hey," she murmured softly.

"Hey." My reply came out more of a choke. My throat let out a cackling laugh. "So, are you going to ask me 'How do you feel?'"

She snorted. "Dresden, I can tell just by looking at you. Would you like me to fetch you a mirror?"

"No mirrors."

"Then you're just going to have to trust me on this. You look like twenty miles of bad road."

"Only twenty?"

She sighed exasperated. "Really," her head fell into her palm, "You haven't been awake for five minutes, and you're already being difficult." Her body shook and a ragged laugh slipped out of her mouth.

"So, what happened?" I asked. I propped my head up off the pillow. "I had an unexpected tumble with the wall and may have blacked out."

She cocked an eyebrow at me. "You think?"

I pursed my lips and squinted my eyes at her. "Just tell me."

She ran a tired hand through her messy blond hair. "I got a good look at the people who took you." She paused, "Jesus Harry, they grabbed you -and the look on your face- you were-" She shook her head and her voice cut off.

"What?" I asked.

She shook her head, and met my eyes for a brief second. "Nothing," she muttered. "It isn't really important." She huffed in a cute way, and her cheeks inflated like a puffer fish. "Anyways, I recognized the woman from the chinese restaurant a few weeks back. I checked in with the restaurant. I asked about an old woman matching her description. Turns out she was a regular, but they couldn't give me her name. I stuck around the restaurant, and eventually got kicked out. I was about two minutes away from having the cops called on me for excessive loitering. I'm sure you can appreciate the irony."

Hells bells. That must have hurt Murphy's pride. Hell, she got antsy when the Blue Beetle got impounded. Being accused of excessive loitering on my behalf was probably almost as bad as a minor arrest itself.

"Sorry, Murph."

Her eyes blazed. "Not your fault. I made the decision. It was my choice." Her features softened. "Besides, one of the regulars I talked to gave me a tip. I don't think they meant to, but they did. They mentioned a 'Jocelyn'."

I grunted.

"I remembered we'd been talking about a Jocelyn and headed over to your office. Thank god you made a note of your client's address. I had her name and home. I headed over, and asked some questions." She smiled confidently. "Jocelyn mentioned she knew you. I asked where her grandmother was, and she told me her father and grandmother were on vacation." She snapped her fingers. "Now here is the kicker. Apparently, grandmother Mariam Young left for her trip in a dark van on the day you were kidnapped. Jocelyn's descriptions of her father and grandmother matched the two people I'd seen taking you. I had Jocelyn find the car statements and information, and the partial license plate numbers I'd read from that night were a match."

"You're a real detective Murph. You might just put me out of a job."

"I knew who they were, but I still couldn't find you." She pursed her lips. "I asked around without drawing too much attention. I didn't want things getting the idea that you were missing from Chicago. So I asked Billy to keep an eye out for leads and I asked Molly to try all the tracking spells in the book. She said it was like hitting a wall. We knew you were in Chicago, but that was all we could ascertain."

"That's odd," I mumbled. "The spells I taught her shouldn't have done that. And she's got a real talent for the subtle stuff. They didn't shave my hair or take the normal tracking precautions. Molly's spell should have worked."

"She told me something similar. So when I saw you in there-" a shudder ran through her, "I was a bit surprised. I expected more -um." Her hands were gesturing in a very un-Murphy like way.

"Err, right." I ushered her to move on with the story. "You found me. Who were those people with you. Maybe it was the head bump, but I didn't recognize them."

Her eyes narrowed, and she looked away. "They were a few of Marcone's men."

"Could you repeat that, for a moment there, I thought you said they were 'Marcone's men'."

She didn't look back at me. "You heard me right the first time." She brushed hair out of her face, and it fell right back down again. "Harry, we couldn't find you. Anywhere. This Mariam character, she has been doing this for a while, possibly over a century. She was good enough that I couldn't track her. She was good enough that Molly couldn't track her."

She was going to stop there, but I gave her a look, and she continued talking.

"I don't know how he heard you were missing. Maybe he keeps tabs on you. I don't know. When I was searching for you, I ran into him. He mentioned an undertown auction that one of his sources had information about. He passed that information on to me and I told Thomas. I figured if anyone could legitimately enter a supernatural auction then it would be a cash loaded white court vampire."

"Marcone wouldn't just do that for free." I glared at her. "What did you give in exchange?"

"A favor."

"A favor," I repeated. "Murphy." I let my head fall into my pillow. "Murphy, Murphy, Murphy. I can't believe you actually-"

"Dresden," she cut me off, "He was the only lead I had. The only lead. It was either a favor or you. It wasn't a choice at all."

I'm proud to say, I didn't tear up. Not even a little. Murphy is good people. If the past week was any example to go by, she had out proved that statement a thousand times over.

"Thomas was suppose to scout the place out. Maybe he made a mistake, because he said you weren't there. Marcone contacted me through one of his men a second time, with information that you were there."

I snorted. "Did he tell you how he got this information."

"No," said Murphy, "But I assume he personally attended. The way his goon said it - well, I just had this feeling."

"You trusted Marcone over Thomas? Please tell me I didn't wake up in some parallel universe."

Murphy's expression hardened. "I had a feeling."

"Murph," I said, "You don't usually organize badass rescue missions on a feeling. That isn't you."

"You're right, it isn't like me." Her gaze softened, and she looked over me. "Harry, try not to get angry. I didn't want to be the one to tell you, but Thomas, he-" her voice got very quiet, "He hasn't really seemed like himself lately." She nodded to my wings. "I've been noticing, since he found out about those, things haven't been the same."

Something twisted inside my chest and my throat felt tight.

"In casual conversation, I've caught him in a few lies. I didn't call him on them, but then I started to notice more. The way he acted around you changed. It was just little things. I felt like he was an actor trying to fill a roll." She held her hands up defensively. The look on my face must have been scary. I didn't it when anyone accused my family of anything. I was irrational in that department.

"Dresden," she breathed. "Harry-" her tone grew more urgent.

I felt my facial features slacken and my body felt like goo. I felt my wings drop limp on my back, and I couldn't look her in the face.

"Yeah, I know Murph." My body shook for a second, and Murphy, the dear that she was, pretended not to notice my momentary lack of control. "He was there. He saw me."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her blink.

"He said something. While I was there, right in front of him, he said something. I think he meant it."

"Do you want to talk about it."

"No."

She rested her elbows on her knees and dipped her head down in exhaustion. "Okay. But if you need to," she began to mutter.

"Yeah, I know. You're here." After a moment of silence I continued, "Not right now, but maybe later. There are a few things I have to sort out."

That seemed to help her a little. She relaxed a bit.

I tested out my legs beneath the sheet covering my lower body. They still felt like goo. I was going to need some help then. "You've met Bob, right? Back at Billy's wedding?"

"The pervy skull." She raised her head, and looked annoyed. "Yeah, I remember alright. He's hard to forget."

"Could you get him? We're at my apartment right? He should be in the subbasement underneath the rugs over there." I gestured with one hand. Ouch. It hurt. The wing on the same side as my gesturing hand twitched sporadically. I groaned.

"Easy, easy, Harry. Hold still, I'll be back in a second." She straightened my wing out from the odd angle it had twisted into, and then stroked the feather like appendages back into place.

I tensed, remembering the buyer's touch, and then relaxed again. This was Murphy. I wasn't in the nightmare room anymore. I needed to chill out.

Murphy seemed to give me a once-over before walking towards my sub basement trap door. She tidily folded the rugs away, revealing the door. I watched her open it and climb down the ladder. She was short, and disappeared from view a lot quicker than I expected.

"Don't touch anything but the skull!" I called down to her. "My radioactive uranium doesn't comply with the city code. I know if you find it, you'll ticket me."

I heard her grunt in reply, and then the clap of her shoes hitting the cold hard floor.

"Why Dresden," she called from the basement. "I never knew you indulged in such exquisite tastes. I would have never guessed you for a fan of 'Lusty Lover Two'. It is a best seller I hear."

Oh, I could hear the sarcasm dripping off her every word.

"Better be careful Murphy," I called back, "It seems like some of my charismatic personality is rubbing off on you. Stallings wont like that too much."

I saw one of her little arms reach out of the hole in the floor, and place Bob the skull near the edge. She pulled herself up out of the trap door, swung her legs out and over, closed the door, and replaced the rugs. She scooped up the skull and brought it over to me.

I looked up at her. "Murphy, thanks for everything, really." I immediately felt like an asshole when I contemplated what I was about to say. "Do you mind if I have a few minutes alone with him?" Yeah. I'd basically just told the woman who kicked monster ass and dedicated a load of time to finding my distressed damsel self to get out of the room. The guilt hit immediately. Even though she was the closest thing I had to a best friend in the entire universe, there were just some things I couldn't discuss.

Murphy stopped moving for like a second, and then walked out of my bedroom. She didn't seem to mind.

I turned towards Bob and flicked him with my finger. "Wake up sleepy head."

Orange motes lit up in the skull's eye-sockets, and a voice came out of the skull. "Always with the puns." Bob's orange mote eyes darted about for a moment. "Wow. Boss, you don't look so good."

"Yeah, because kidnappers always treat their kidnapees so well." I tapped on the skull with my finger. "Before I had this life-detour, you were telling me about Thomas."

"Was I?" the skull mussed.

"Yes, don't you remember?" I drawled with heavy sarcasm and annoyance. "I believe you mentioned something about a part time job?"

"Me, boss? You sure?"

"Something about him hunting outsiders?"

Bob got really quiet. His orange mote eyes froze, and just looked at me.

"You've got information Bob. Spill it." I growled.

"Is that an order?" Bob asked.

I cocked an eyebrow. "Do I need to make it one?" Bob didn't like orders. Usually I didn't force him to do anything, most of the time I just bribed him with bad porn. The only time he'd been this resistant in my care, was during my run in with necromancers. I'd accidentally unlocked an evil necro Bob, and somehow managed to survive. Time like those were a reminder of just how powerful the spirit in my possession was. I had to be careful about accessing information. "Bob, is this one of those things, where if I ask about it, you go evil on me?"

Bob blinked. The orange motes clicked off and then on again. "No, no, boss, nothing as drastic as that."

"Then why are you avoiding answering."

It seemed Bob had caught onto my thought process. "Oh, boss, nothing like that. If I told you the information I knew, just by knowing about it you'd be in danger."

"I've been in danger before." I retorted.

"It isn't just that. Just by knowing the information you'd be putting everyone in danger. Like, heavy duty apocalypse stuff, boss. I know how worked up you get about those silly mortal qualms."

"That's ridiculous."

"So are your wings, but you don't see me denying their existence."

Point taken. "Touche." I thought about it a little more. The more I thought about it, the less crazy it seemed. After all, I'd seen the power of belief in action. Belief was essentially just a thought. In a way, it also made sense that, in essence, knowledge was also just a thought. Thoughts and ideas had power. "Like belief," I said.

"Yes, very similar," Bob commented. "Belief is acknowledging something's existence without need for proof. Belief can be passed on to others as thoughts, ideas, and ideals. Believers may not know exactly what it is they are believing in. They may never have the whole truth in their lifetimes. But that one thought, diluted as it may be, spread among thousands, -hundreds even-"

Something whispered in my head, "Or even only one." I suppressed a shutter.

"Gives beings, beasts, and devils great power." Bob's orange mote gaze focused on me. "Do you understand what you're asking me?"

I gulped and nodded. "Yeah, I think." I considered my words for a second. "Concerning Thomas, is there anything that you would be willing to tell me about his amnesty towards outsiders. Anything that might prove useful to my survival?"

My wording could have been better. But I wasn't bargaining with the fae. This was Bob. And it was in his own self interest to keep me around. He'd said it himself before my kidnapping. I was one of the best custodians the spirit had for a long time.

"I may have already told you too much, but he hunts outsiders. Usually he just faces servitors of outside, simple pawns. I doubt he's ever come across something like you. A human enough anchor to reach into the mortal plane. Thomas knows more about outsiders than you or I. I doubt distinguishing the peaceful from the bloodthirsty is something he focus's on."

"But he's my brother."

"He may not return the same sediments. Think about it this way," Bob paused, "What if Susan came back to town as a full red court monster."

"That wouldn't happen," I cut him off angrily. "She's got more control than that. Besides, she's with the fellowship."

"Stop kidding yourself Harry, and stop avoiding the issue," snapped Bob. "It is a very real possibility. Say you found out about it. You knew what had happened. You knew that she'd turned."

I growled, but Bob continued. "Say she showed up on your doorstep, while your friends were around. What would you do?"

"I-" I choked. I didn't know how to answer that.

"It would be tough, but you'd kill her. You'd do it to protect your friends and yourself. You'd feel guilty as hell later and grow a beard of sorrow, but you'd do it."

I was seeing red, and my wings gave little abortive flaps over my shoulder. Then it clicked.

"Ah," remarked Bob. "Maybe someone else might be convinced there was something left of her in there. Someone naive. You've fought the reds boss, you know how they operate. And regardless of her intentions, you wouldn't believe her. Your logical mind tells you that all personality is purged after the turn."

"And that's how Thomas feels," I groaned. "He thinks I'm like other outsiders, only posing to be human."

Bob tactically said nothing.

"How can I convince him I'm still me? Nothing's changed."

"How would Susan convince you?"

I started to reply, but Bob cut me off.

"Really, think for a moment. What could she possibly say that would convince you it wasn't a scam?"

I was quiet. My heart pounded in my chest, and I let my head fall back into my pillow. My achey eyes appreciated the fabric's darkness and my nose filled with the scent of home.

"If you can find the answer to that," tisked Bob, "I'd be so impressed, you wouldn't have to pay me in paperbacks for a month."

My voice came out smothered from the pillow. "What should I do? I can't avoid Thomas forever."

"It is only a matter of time till he figures out the auction went south. I suggest figuring it out before then."

There was a stretch of silence.

"I guess I better beef up the wards and upgrade Molly and Murphy's pendants."

"That would be a start," said Bob. He seemed distant and disinterested in the conversation.

I heard a knock on the bedroom door, and Murphy came in, her arms full of food. My mouth started watering. "Done in here yet?" she asked.

"Yeah, pretty much," I replied.

She nodded and headed back towards the door. "I'll be back with some napkins. Where do you keep them?"

I gave her a shrug.

While she was gone, I quickly told Bob about the auction, Thomas' behavior, and the strangely familiar man that I'd met there. He listened intently, and eventually the conversation seemed to return back to Thomas.

"Do you think, I I just keep doing what I've always been doing, he'll come around?"

"I don't know boss."

"Space is always good for relationships. Eventually, he'll see, I'm sure." I ranted on to myself, "After all, he's family."

Bob's tone didn't sound convinced. "Maybe. Who knows."

Murphy came back with the napkins. If it was possible, she looked a little more disheveled than before. We had chicken noodle soup -Mama Murphy edition and it was the best.

"I'm never going back to takeout," I commented.

"Burger King is technically takeout."

"Lies," I spat playfully in my best evil overlord voice.

She laughed a bit and then things got serious again.

"Say, Dresden?"

I looked up from my bowl of chicken noodle soup. "What?"

She pointed to my wings, they were almost as big as me and fully grown. "What are you going to do about your wings?"

I looked down and thought about it pensively. I didn't say anything for a long moment. "I don't know Murph. I hadn't really thought about them much. You know, with being kidnapped and all."

She grunted in amusement.

"I'll think about it later," I grumbled. "Right now I'm enjoying this. Murphy, you've been holding out on me. I had no idea you could cook."

She started to say something, but we heard a knock on my steel door. She started to get up, but I grabbed her wrist tight.

"Murphy, it might be Thomas, I don't-" I tried to find the words to say: 'my brother is possibly trying to kill me', but she hushed me and worked her hand out of my grab. It was some sort of Aikido thing.

"It isn't Thomas." She pulled her hair back with her fingers and tried to straighten it out. "Just stay here, I'll take care of it, I promise." She straightened and walked out of my bedroom, leaving the door slightly cracked.

I focused on Listening. It was a skill I'd somehow picked up and was perfect for the situation. I heard Murphy open the steel door, and from the lack of creaking metal, I figured she opened it with relative ease.

There was talking, I caught an everyday greeting, and I focused on Listening harder.

I heard Murphy talking to someone. "I got him. He's fine."

A familiar male voice replied. "As much as I'd like to believe that; usually the victims of kidnapping, especially the supernatural kind, don't tend to be 'fine' afterwords."

"He will be fine."

"I take it my information was correct then," the familiar voice replied. The voice sounded so familiar. So familiar that I wanted to slap myself for not being able to place it.

"Yes," Murphy seemed to hiss while still being professional. "Thank you for your concern. Now get off this property before I call the police Mar-"

I didn't catch the last part because my giant godzilla-of-a-cat zipped through my open bedroom door and slammed into me. It hurt. A lot. But I managed to not let my soup spill all over the place. 30 pounds of Mister purred and nuzzled up under my chin before walking along my bedside to swipe a clawed paw at my wings.

"Mister!" I exclaimed.

One swipe made contact, but it didn't really do any damage. I flexed one of my wings and it flapped. Mister loved it, and continued to bat at it playfully.

Murphy came back in, and sat down with me. She saw Mister and I playing, and covered a grin.

"Who was at the door?" I asked.

"No one," she said as she plucked my cat off my bed. "No one who needs mentioning."


End file.
